


The Lust that Drives Black Eyes

by HerMajestyEvie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, M/M, Multi, Pre-Season/Series 01, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 22:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerMajestyEvie/pseuds/HerMajestyEvie
Summary: What if Tyson Brady just couldn't pass Sam Winchester onto some undeserving bitch? What if he wanted to get the show on the road a lot sooner? What if he took Sam for himself?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well... new plot, new story! So seeing as I have another one in the words right now this one probably won't be updates as often - maybe every other week? I don't know we'll see how it goes. Feel free to yell if I don't update soon enough for your writing though, or if you have an idea on where to go.  
> This first bit though is just an opening of sorts to set the scene, see how people feel, find out if you want more...  
> Enjoy! And as always please comment because I love hearing from you guys.

When Brady was first possessed no one really noticed. 

Of course they saw the sudden mood swings, the personality changes, the overabundance of drinking and some drugs, but none of them really noticed the demon within. They saw a friend that they needed to help. They saw a boy driven off the rails temporarily by the stress of college. Sam Winchester saw his friend, and he knew that he had to help. 

Saving people. That was his job, and it would always be his job. Maybe his hunting life was over, maybe he wasn’t a part of the ‘family business’, but he could still save people. 

“That’s enough, Brady,” Sam said, taking a beer from his hand as the possessed boy pulled it from his dorm fridge. 

“It most certainly isn’t,” Brady replied, his words slurred. It was fake, but it was believable. After all, demons struggled to get drunk. 

“Yes, it is,” Sam replied, using his height to place the bottle on a high shelf, along with the seventeen other bottles in the fridge. 

“Not fair man,” the other boy moaned. 

Sam grabbed Brady by the shoulder, hauling him over to his bed and sitting him down with a stern, “don’t move.” Filling a glass with water and returning to kneel before the boy, Sam made sure that the other boy drank the whole thing before doing anything else. “Why are you doing all this, Brady? What happened to you?”

“Life, Sammy,” was all the demon replied, spreading his arms wide. 

“I told you not to call me that,” Sam replied, but he didn’t really care at that point; all that mattered was helping his friend get back on the wagon. 

“Sammy. Sammy Sam Winchester,” Brady sang, over and over again whilst Sam ground his teeth. 

“Ok Brady. That’s enough. Let’s get you into bed.”

Pulling back the covers, Sam hauled Brady around and pushed him down as if to sleep, and quickly the boy went out like a light. Sam gave the dorm room one last glance over before leaving, the door closing with a faint click behind him.

Sam didn’t stop to consider why Brady was so compliant, or how he had fallen asleep so quickly despite not being tired. All he knew was that he was helping his friend. 

All Brady needed to do was comply with precious Sammy’s wishes, and soon enough he’d have the boy under his thumb. 

 

Xxx

 

Brady knew what his orders were:

Step one. Find the perfect girl for Samuel Winchester. Make sure he got to know her and fell in love. Make sure they were happy beyond anything.

Step two: Kill the bitch. 

Simple. Easy. Effective. It was meant to be fool proof, and Azazel’s plans had been clear, but the moment Tyson Brady saw Samuel Winchester he knew that he just couldn’t pass that piece of meat onto some bitch. He had to have the future boy-king for himself. 

Azazel had some sick plan in play, one that would take years to implement and had too many variables that could cause trouble. Brady had one much simpler; seduce Sam Winchester, and make him into the perfect king. Make him compliant so that when the time came Brady could order Sam to jump, and the only response would be ‘how high?’. Make it so that Sam would think it an honour to be possessed by Lucifer, and Brady would be deemed a hero. 

He would do it. He refused to fail. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam went to Brady every morning that week, and the week after, and the week after. 

At first Sam would get the boy out of bed and remove any alcohol in the dorm. Later he would bring bottles of water and force the boy to drink it all before he left, maybe staying for a chat or two, sometimes walking with Brady to his classes in an attempt to make him start study again, or at least show up.

But soon enough he was bringing coffee. He would walk with the boy to the library, and he would help him study for his courses before Brady went to lectures and Sam would work himself before his own classes. Brady would swing by to find Sam afterwards and bring coffee with him. Sam would wonder how Brady always manage to get better coffee than him from the same shop, and Brady would tell him how he’d charm the barista into using the best beans. 

It became a routine, one that they did nearly every day without fail, and every day Brady drew Sam away from Azazel’s path, and pulled him onto the one he had designed instead. All because Brady knew how to make Sam come to him, and then how to make him stay. After all, it was ingrained into the former hunter’s head that he had to save people. He had to save Brady and yank him back onto the wagon. He had to make sure that his friend was ok. 

He didn’t realise that with every coffee, every walk, every smile, he was losing a little bit more of himself. 


	2. Don't forget the coffee

“Hey Sammy,” Brady said, coming to meet him one morning after class. 

“I told you not to call me that,” Sam replied, but there was no bite behind the words. Not any more. 

“Ok Sammy.”

Handing over a coffee cup, Brady shot him a small smile. Sam responded with one of his own, taking a deep drink of his utterly incredible coffee and groaned at the taste. It truly was divine. “I think I’m addicted to this stuff,” Sam said at last, finishing the cup and then using his finger to scrape out the remaining dregs. 

“Then I will just have to get you more,” Brady replied, his smile genuine this time. The pair walked in silence for some time, but it was a comfortable silence that Sam had only ever had with one other person before, and he hadn’t seen them in forever. “Tell me,” Brady finally said, halting their walk to make Sam face him. “Are you free Friday night?” 

“Um… I think so?” Sam said, his face burning as he blushed, realising what was going on at last. Brady had never been subtle in his flirting before, and Sam wasn’t ashamed to admit that he kind of liked it. 

“Good, because you and I are going to a movie. Together.” 

“Oh, uh, ok, yeah. That sounds… that sounds great.” It wasn’t possible for him to look more like a tomato. He didn’t realise that a nearby bin had fallen over… without any wind or a person to physically push it.

Brady brought his hand up to Sam’s face, cupping his cheek as Sam leant into the touch. He always did, despite Brady seeming to have a weird smell surrounding him all the time. His other hand grasped Sam’s, their fingers tangling together. 

Sam was lying; it was possible to become more of a tomato.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then,” Brady said, and before Sam could react the boy left, leaving Sam to watch him go and wonder when he decided that going on a date with his best friend was a good idea. 

“I need more coffee,” he muttered, turning in the direction of the cafe as he started to walk, hoping that maybe he could get someone to make him awesome coffee. 

For the entirety of the half mile walk, Sam thought over and over what had just happened.  _ Oh god. I just agreed to go out with Brady. Tyson Brady. I just got asked out by Tyson Brady. Brady. Oh god. I said yes. Oh god.  _ He was panicked, yes, but he was also… excited. He liked Brady, more than liked apparently, and he wanted to do this. He did. 

So why couldn’t he stop his hands from shaking?

A few branches fell from a tree.  

“Coffee will help,” Sam muttered, repeating the words that Brady loved to say. Coffee helps everything. Coffee makes him feel better. Coffee solves the world’s problems. 

Leaving the cafe twenty minutes later, Sam eagerly drained the take out cup. But it didn’t help. He only hesitated for  a moment before walking back in and buying another cup. And another only a few minutes after that. 

The girl in there began to give him strange looks after his third cup, but he couldn’t care less; coffee always helped, so what was different? Was it his nerves? He was feeling ill, after all. It was just nerves. But when his vision blurred, Sam realised he was wrong. Fumbling through his pocket, he eventually managed to hit speed dial and call Brady, though it was a recorded voicemail message that met his ears. 

“Hey, Brady,” Sam said, rubbing his forehead as he started walking back towards his dorm. “It’s me. I’m not feeling great so I’m heading back to my room… and I guess I’ll see you later…” 

It was meant to be a half hour walk, but it took twice that time before Sam was slumped in bed, his headache now a full blown migraine. Moaning, he pressed his hands over his eyes, trying with all his might to block out the light that burnt his eyes, needing his heartbeat to slow and stop resonating through his ears. 

A hammer started to pound against his skull some time later, and Brady’s voice floated over to Sam through the haze of pain he’d sunk into, only interspersed by brief periods of unconsciousness when he fell asleep. 

“Sam? Are you ok?” Brady asked as he sat by Sam, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. 

“Nghh,” Sam moaned, but the message seemed clear. 

“I brought you something,” Brady replied, walking over to the table that held Sam’s microwave and a few bowls and such. “Here,” he said, taking a steaming bowl from the microwave a minute later. “Tomato soup,” he said, handing it over with a spoon. “My mum said it can cure anything.”   
It smelled so good. 

Sam brought the spoon to his lips, the red liquid passing his lips and being swallowed down without any trouble. 

“It’s really good,” Sam said between mouthfuls. And it was; it was really tomato-y, but there was something salty underneath, barely a hint but enough to taste it. It was divine, and almost like magic it made his headache clear. It made him feel amazing. “Did you shove some drugs in this?” Sam asked, half joking; Brady had been clean for months now, but no soup was good enough to cure him like that.

“No,” Brady chuckled, “but clearly you were just hungry. When was the last time you ate?”

Thinking back, Sam could concede that he hadn’t eaten that much since the morning, and he had done a lot of sport since then. Just because he wasn’t a hunter didn’t mean that he could afford to become unfit. Just in case. 

“A while,” Sam replied, sitting up and grimacing at the layer of sweat he could feel coating his body. Great. “Sorry if I worried you,” he said, wiping any stray soup from around his mouth away with his hand. 

“No don’t be. You took care of me so much that it felt right to repay the favour.”

“It was nothing,” Sam replied, a blush crawling up his neck. 

“No, it was everything for me Sammy,” Brady replied, leaning in and planting a kiss on Sam’s lips, his hand coming up to tangle in Sam’s hair. He was very happy to taste some remnants of his blood on Sam’s lips, and even more so when his tongue found its way inside the boy’s mouth.Soon enough Sam would be drinking his blood, and only his blood. None if this hiding it in coffee and soup. 

 

Xxx

 

Their date came around quickly, the days passing with continuous food being given to Sam by Brady, the latter claiming to not want Sam becoming ill from not eating enough. Most of the stuff was homemade, somehow, and though he couldn’t get enough of it Sam eventually brought Brady a cookbook and new cooking utensils; the boy always used slightly too much salt, and everything had a metallic taste. He was probably using older metal spoons or something, Sam thought, but it didn’t affect his love of the food in any way. In fact, he secretly loved it by the time Friday evening came. 

Raspberry slushies and a mountain of popcorn between them, the two settled in for their film, hands joined throughout the whole affair. And when the credits started to role, Brady leant over and planted a kiss on Sam’s lips. Sam pulled back slightly when he realised that Brady had a cut on his lip, and that the scab had come off whilst they kissed, but Brady pulled him back in for another go. “That’s so hot,” he had said, whiping the blood off Sam’s lip, and Sam wanted to hear that again. He took extra care to ensure that his tongue found the small cut the next time their lips met, and a rush ran through his blood when he tasted the blood on his own. 

Smiling and panting, the pair broke apart as the lights came up, both flushed and slightly panting. 

“Let’s do that again some time,” Sam said, standing up to leave. 

“How about next week?” Brady replied, walking out the cinema by Sam’s side. 

“Perfect,” Sam said, pulling Brady in again. 

“See you tomorrow, Sammy,” Brady eventually said, leaving Sam at his dorm door.

“Don’t forget the coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this one... a lot...   
> As usual, I have no end point planned, so comment with ideas please or else this work is going unfinished :(


	3. The Devil and His Demon

Three weeks passed, eight dates gone, and Sam was certain that he had a coffee addiction. “Hey Sammy,” Brady said as he pulled the chair out next to Sam whilst the former hunter studied in the library. “Guess what?”

“What Brady?” Sam replied, a small blush colouring his cheeks as Brady’s hand ended up on his thigh. High up on his thigh, rubbing circles into him through the rough material of his jeans. 

“I got you a halloween costume for tonight,” Brady whispered, leaning in close to whisper the words into Sam’s ear. 

“Brady, you know how I feel about halloween,” Sam protested, hoping that he wasn’t as red as he felt following Brady’s lips brushing his ear. 

“Yes, but you’ve never done it my way,” Brady pointed out as he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip quirking up in a small smirk. “And my way involves much less booze, and a lot more hot sex.” 

Practically choking on air, Sam quickly looked round the library in search of listening ears, but thankfully there was no one around. “Brady!” He hissed, shutting his books with a soft thump. “You can’t just say that!” 

“But I just did, didn’t I? See you tonight,” he said as he walked off, leaving Sam’s heart racing behind him. The Winchester was both terrified and excited for what Brady had planned; it wasn’t their first time having sex - that had been the week before - but anything involving costumes, especially when picked out by Brady, was never a good sign…

But it certainly was exciting. 

 

Xxx

 

Brady was slightly nervous as he knocked on Sam’s door, his eyes their true demonic black. Of course, his costume consisted of tight black jeans and a half buttoned black shirt, so it wasn’t really a costume. 

He didn’t wait for an answer before unlocking the door with his own key, walking in to find Sam sprawled out on the bed, a set of red horns on his head and a tail attached to his own black trousers. Their clothes were identical; the only differences were the accessories to go with them. 

“The devil and his demon?” Sam asked, baring his neck for Brady as the demon strolled over, his hand running the length of Sam’s body as he lay there. 

“Who said I’m yours?” Brady murmured into Sam’s neck, his tongue tracing the words into his skin. 

“Me,” Sam replied, trying to stop a light moan escaping his lips as Brady sucked bruises into his flesh. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes.”   
“Prove it.”

With a strength greater than a normal human, Sam rolled Brady over so that the demon was beneath him, their lips meeting and tongues fighting in a battle for dominance. Sam won, of course, and very quickly his lips mapped out Brady’s jaw, neck, chest, until he was unbuttoning the boy’s shirt to reach more skin. 

“Kinky little devil,” Brady moaned as Sam growled, a smirk on his normally soft features. 

“Naughty demon,” Sam replied as Brady ripped his shirt open. 

“You gonna do anything about that?” 

Sam didn’t reply; his mouth was too busy doing other things. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam awoke with a heartbeat as a pillow and sunlight blinding him for a moment. Indeed, when he finally managed to see he found the curtains missing and a mountain of feathers covering him, his head resting on Brady’s chest as the other’s fingers carded through his hair. 

“What happened?” Sam asked, his throat slightly dry. He remembered Brady coming over, and he remembered that they started to have sex… and he remembered very little after that. “Was I drunk?”

“No, not drunk Sammy,” Brady replied, sighing as he started to sit up and force Sam off him. “Then… then what happened?” It wasn’t just the pillows and curtains in ruins; the nightstand was in splinters and his clothes were flung all over the room. 

“I- I…” Brady began, his head dropped to his chest. “I got a bit excited,” he eventually conceded. In reality, Sam had gotten slightly overwhelmed and his powers had burst out of him, but Brady knew that if he told him that then the boy would freak and run… this was better. “I haven’t been honest with you Sammy,” Brady said, taking Sam’s hand as the other pulled his cover off the floor. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sam asked, trying not to sound so demanding. 

“You remember my costume from last night?” He waited for a nod before continuing, making sure that he lowered himself to crying in front of the hunter first. “Well it wasn’t a costume. I’m- I’m a, a demon,” he finally whispered, head dropped and shoulders shaking just to tug at Sam’s heartstrings. 

Sam, in turn, froze. His breathing slowed, his eyes wide. Very slowly and as inconspicuous as possible, his hands started to creep towards the edge of the bed to try and pull his gun from beneath. “I won’t stop you if you want to shoot me,” Brady said, raising his head to show the tears spilling from his eyes. From his black eyes. 

Sam burst into motion, pulling drawing his gun and pointing it at the demon as he got to his feet, slowly backing away towards the door. He didn’t care that he was naked, just that the moment he heard the words demon John Winchester’s voice began screaming at him to protect himself and kill the monster. 

He only listened to the first part of that message. 

“Why shouldn’t I shoot you?” Sam asked, his voice cold. 

“You probably should,” Brady replied, his fingers twisting up the bed covers. “I told you that I won’t stop you, but I don’t want to be this way. I don’t! I just wanted to try and remember what it was like to feel human again, and you helped me Sammy.” 

“How?” Sam asked, his hunter instincts beginning to be swamped by how much he cared for what he had thought to be the boy in front of him. 

“You showed me what it is like to love. I love you Sammy.” A watery smile and Sam was done, his hands shaking as he lowered the gun. 

“You what?” Sam asked, heart hammering away in his chest. 

“I love you,” Brady repeated, “and I understand if you can’t love a thing like me, but just know that I never asked to be this way.”   
“You didn’t go to hell?” Sam asked incredulously. 

“No, I did, but I sold my soul to save my brother from cancer. I didn’t earn my place there from being evil.”

“You sold your soul?” Sam asked, having never heard of deals being made before. 

“Yes,” Brady replied, his eyes returning to their normal state which made Sam stiffen. “There are these demons, crossroads demons, that make deals with you. You sell your soul, get ten years to live, then when you die you go to hell and become one of them. It was sell my soul or watch my brother die.” Brady knew that he had Sam by the throat the moment he mentioned a brother. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam demanded at last. 

“You don’t, but I’m guessing that you have excellent hunters’ instincts,” Brady remarked with a quirk of his lips. 

“How do you know-”   
“That you’re a hunter? Everyone knows of John Winchester. It’s not hard.”

“So do you want me as a hostage?” Sam demanded, his temper flaring up.

“No!” Brady replied, his hands coming up almost in surrender. “No I would never do that! I just… I heard that you were open minded, and I hoped that you would be able to accept me. Please, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll leave if you really want me to, just know that I really do love you.”   
Sam was silent for a moment before asking the burning question. “Demons possess people, so how long have you been possessing Brady?” 

“Since he died,” the demon replied, coming up with some sob story to win Sam over completely. “He decided to try drugs for the first time and threw himself in at the deep end. OD’d on heroin first time. It’s only me in here.” Lies lies lies, but Sam didn’t need to ever know that. 

“So the boy I learned to love?” Sam asked at last. 

“All me.”

“Good,” was Sam’s last word before pulling on his jeans and a shirt, leaving the dorm with his bags to go work. 

Without Brady.


	4. The Future King of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now my main focus (thanks to the completion of 'Just Give Up') so I will be updating Fridays fortnightly! Hope you enjoy :)

Sam couldn’t breath. He was dating a demon, he’d kissed a demon, he’d  _ slept  _ with a demon. 

_ Oh god. Oh god no. Please no,  _ Sam thought, his breath coming too fast, feet moving too quickly.  _ Please no,  _ he was running now, pushing people out the way as he tried to find somewhere empty; he just needed to be alone. Completely and utterly alone. 

Stumbling into an alley, Sam slammed into the wall, his legs giving way as he slid down the wall and found himself sitting in something he hoped wasn’t piss. 

_ He’s a demon, he’s a demon, he’s a demon,  _ Sam’s mind chanted, and very quickly he felt himself get overwhelmed. He had to ground himself. He had to calm down, and fast. Sam slammed his head back against the brink wall, only hard enough to hurt not to break the bone, and yet his body didn’t seem to understand. 

In fact, it decided to smash the wall, cracks spider webbing out from where his head had hit. 

“Wha-?” Sam began, spinning round to find out what had happened, dumbfounded by what he had done. Not only had he smashed the wall, and he was unable to deny that it was him who had done it, but he hadn’t hurt himself one bit. 

Sam sprinted out the alley, running all the way back to his dorm to find Brady tidying up the room. He didn’t care that the demon didn’t need to, that the dorm was practically perfect again. He just slammed him up against the wall with a gun in his face and an arm to his throat.

“What did you do to me!” Sam roared, spit practically flying into Brady’s face. 

“Nothing!” Brady replied, his hands in the air as if to proclaim innocence. “I didn’t do anything to you! You’re… What are you even talking about?” 

“I smashed a wall,” Sam seethed, “after hitting it with my head. That’s not something normal people can do. So what did you do?” 

“Nothing, I mean it,” Brady replied, shutting his eyes when Sam pressed the gun into his skin. “I mean it! I didn’t do anything, but…”

“But?” Sam asked, pressing harder against Brady’s neck despite it not seeming to have an effect. 

“There was this demon, Azazel, he was the one who killed your mother, and I heard a rumour that he did some experiments on kids to see if they could get powers. I swear I did nothing to you!” 

“What?” Sam asked, stepping back but keeping the gun raised. “What happened with my mother?” 

“She… this demon, Azazel, wanted to try and give kids powers to make an army, but he had to get the kids whilst they were babies. He went to a load of people’s houses when they were six months old, and he fed them demon blood. Your mum interrupted him though, and so he killed her.” Sam slowly lowered the gun, but he didn’t yet put the safety on. 

“I have demon blood?” He asked, praying that it wasn’t true. 

“I’m afraid so,” Brady replied, dropping his head in shame. 

“Can I get rid of it?” 

“No,” Brady admitted, “but I guess the next best is learning to control it.”   
“Control it?” Sam spat, disgusted more with himself than Brady’s suggestion. 

“Well, you’ve already shown some powers, so I guess more are coming? Most demons get their fair share,” Brady said, scratching his head. 

He knew how to play this game.

“I’m not a demon,” Sam very quickly replied, hands shaking as he turned and put the gun down, knowing that he would likely hurt people, and not the demon, with a shaking finger on the trigger. 

“No, no you aren’t,” Brady replied, taking a hesitant step forward, then another when Sam didn’t stop him. “Except you have the powers of one, and they were given to you by the king no less.”

“This demon, Azazel, he’s king?” Sam asked quickly. 

“Yeah, he’s been leading us for centuries. He’s one of Lucifer’s princes after all.” 

“Lucifer? Like the angel?” Sam asked, Brady getting within touching distance. 

“Yeah, they say that Azazel wants to raise him,” Brady admitted, taking some pride when Sam took a seat. “He wants to start the apocalypse.”

“How- how do I stop him?” Sam asked, realising that no matter how far he ran he’d always come back to the hunting life. He was Sam Winchester, son of John Winchester, and he was a hunter. 

He was going to stop the apocalypse from ever starting. 

“Azazel is the most powerful demon in hell, save Lilith. You’d have to be stronger than him, and by a mile, to stand a chance. And if you killed him you couldn’t just leave; you’d have to stop everyone else from picking up where Azazel left off.” Lies mixed with truth, and truth twisted by lies. Brady was having the time of his life. 

“So what? I can’t do it? Lucifer will rise and start the apocalypse and no one can to do anything?” Sam asked, getting to his feet and starting to pace the room, growing ever more agitated. 

“I never said that,” Brady admitted, and Sam suddenly stopped as he looked up.

“What? But you said-”   
“I said you’d have to stop other demons from taking over. You could do that as King.” After all, what need did Brady have for Lucifer if he had Sam under his thumb, and wearing the crown too. 

“You want me to be King of Hell?” Sam asked, unsure whether to be furious or to simply not believe the demon.

“It’s the only way to stop this,” Brady concluded. 

“No.” 

“Sam-”   
“No, Brady!” Sam practically shouted. “I refuse. I should kill you here and now,” Sam snarled, looking towards the gun. 

“It won’t work,” Brady said, following Sam’s line of sight. “Guns like that don’t work on my kind.”   
“So what does? Is it just demon tainted freaks?” Furious. That was what he was feeling. 

“No.” Reaching into his jacket, Sam watched as Brady drew a dagger. “I stole this from a witch turned demon. It will kill the low level demons.”

“Like you?” Sam asked, taking the blade. 

“Like me,” Brady confirmed, not at all surprised when Sam grabbed him and held the blade to his throat. 

“I refuse to become one of you,” Sam snarled, but he turned and walked away, leaving Brady in his dorm, along with all his books and supplies; he knew that his dream of being a lawyer was as good as gone. He was a hunter, and it was time to start acting like one. 

Out the building and on the street, Sam pulled out his phone began to search through is contacts, scrolling through until he found one reading  _ Dean.  _

“Hey Dean,” Sam said when the call connected. “I want back in.”

He thought for a moment whether or not to delete the number of the demon he had loved, but in the end Sam left Brady’s contact right there in his phone, one above Dean’s. 


	5. Truth and lies, lies and truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late! I was having a weekend in London. Enjoy people!

“Brady? Are you here?” Sam asked, coming to the correct apartment, three blocks from where him and Dean were staying. He’d turned back and gone to Dean upon meeting Meg, knowing that the moment his father found out about him he would be dead. At least with Dean he’d have a chance to explain. 

“Yeah, I’m here Sammy,” Brady replied from the sofa, the book he was reading on the table in front of him. 

“Is that  _ The Hobbit _ ?” Sam asked with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Brady replied with a smile, making his way towards Sam but leaving enough distance for the hunter to be comfortable. “Did you read everything already?” Brady asked, no longer referring to the book. 

“You gave me like a thousand pages,” Sam said with a chuckle.

“So that’s a yes?” Brady replied with a grin. 

“I got through about three hundred,” Sam said. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You uh… you didn’t read the end?” Brady asked, eyes wide as he wrung his hands. Sam’s face was answer enough. “Sit down, Sam,” Brady offered, and Sam did, although he took the seat furthest from the demon. “I gave you the copies,” Brady said, going to grab his own ‘ancient’ papers from the shelf - he’d made them all himself, of course - and handed the right ones over to Sam. “There were other people like you, with demon blood in them, and someone managed to keep track of what they were like. You uh… I guess the best way of putting it is that you need to… replenish the blood in your system whenever you use your powers, or else you die, so you need to drink more demon blood.”

“No,” Sam immediately said, standing up. “No I won’t drink. I’ll just not use my powers.” He began to pace, terrified of what was happening to him, of what he was going to become. 

“Sam,” Brady said, coming over and taking Sam’s hand, trying to calm the boy before he had a panic attack. “Sam, you know that’s not possible.” His hand came up to Sam’s cheek, trying to comfort him as tears spilled down his face.

“No it is, I- I- I… I’ll learn control, and then I can suppress it,” Sam said, thinking out loud more than anything. 

“Sam,” Brady interrupted, forcing Sam to look at him as he spoke. “Sam you know that’s not possible. Even if you manage to control your powers, they are also what keep you alive.” 

“What-?”

“The demon blood burns through your cells. The blood is what keeps you alive. It heals you, Sam.”

“You’ve been feeding it to me,” Sam said with realisation, shoving Brady away from him as his mind ran a thousand miles a minute. “All the meals, they were metallic because of  _ you.  _ You’ve been… been… been  _ drugging  _ me!” 

“Sam! Sam! No!” Brady cried, his hands raised as Sam pulled a gun on him. “Sam!”   
“Is it true?” The hunter demanded, hands shaking as he realised just how much the demon had betrayed him.

“Yes,” Brady conceded at last. “But you were getting sick! You were dying! I had to!”

“What?” Sam snapped, trying to remember what had happened all those months ago. 

“Remember when you were ill? Really ill?” Sam nodded. “That was the start. That was your body being burned away by the blood. You were  _ dying  _ Sam, and I did the only thing I could think of to help.” Lies, lies, and more lies. 

“So you made me into a  _ monster _ ?” Sam demanded. 

“You’re not a monster, Sammy,” Brady whispered. 

“ _ Don’t call me that,”  _ Sam snarled. “Only Dean can call me that.” 

“But-” 

“But what?” 

“But… Sam, you aren’t a monster. You’re just a boy who had something terrible happen.”

“Yeah,” Sam snarled, “you’re the monster.”   
“I take it you don’t want my help, then?” Brady asked, realising that Sam wasn’t going to listen whilst like this. 

“No. I’ll help myself.” 

“You’ll die,” Brady called after Sam as he turned and walked away. 

“I’m a Winchester,” Sam said, looking back one last time. “I’ll find a way.”

 

Xxx

 

“Brady!” Meg said over the phone, her voice full of false joy. “How’s the little antichrist doing?”

“He did what we wanted,” Brady replied, smirking despite Meg being unable to see him. 

“So what next?” Meg asked, Brady being annoying and only telling her the next step, ensuring that if word got back to Azazel he wouldn’t know too much. 

“Cut him off.”

“Completely?”

“Cold turkey,” Brady said, ending the call and pocketing the phone. He really hated that thing. He couldn’t wait for the moment he could slit someone’s throat to make a call, murdering and torturing as his heart desired. The moment he didn’t have to be Sammy’s perfect man was the moment he’d go on a killing spree. 

Starting with Dean, Sam’s closest tie to his humanity. 


	6. Blackened blood and shattered hearts

“Dean,” Sam called as he crouched over the toilet, his stomach cramping up horrifically as he vomited his guts up. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked, throwing the bathroom door open with a bang. “Sammy what's wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Sam replied, retching once again into the bowl. 

“Is that… is that blood?” Dean asked, eyeing the red dripping from his brother’s lips, mixed amongst the bile and gore. 

“Something’s wrong,” Sam repeated, wincing in pain as he clutched his middle. “Something… I think this is more than a hospital Dean. It feels like something’s inside me.”

“Of course you feel like Sam,” Dean replied, his hands coming to Sam’s hair and using it to pull his head back, leaving his throat bare. “You’re the demon freak. You’re full of evil and pain and darkness, and this is it what it feels like.”

“What?” 

“You’re nothing but a demon freak, and you deserve to die like one,” Dean growled as he slit Sam’s throat with his own demon killing blade. Sam was left gasping on the floor as his breath was ripped from his lungs… and then it was over. Then he was left a crying mess as his body was torn apart from the inside.

“Please please please,” Sam whimpered, unable to figure out what was going on; he’d been stabbed, burned, ripped apart, whipped, and yelled at. 

And all of it was at Dean’s hand. 

He didn’t know what was real and what was not. He didn’t know if Dean was really speaking to him, of if his words were as fictitious as his actions. He didn’t know which would be worse… 

“You really don’t know what’s causing this, do you Sammy?” Dean asked, crouching down to Sam’s level on the floor. Sam only shook his head, unable and unwilling to form words. Dean bent forward so that his breath ghosted Sam’s ear, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “it’s in your blood.” 

“No!” Sam gasped as he backed away, his head slamming into the sink in his haste, bottles and glasses and toothbrushes falling to the floor around him, the glass shattering on impact and the shards embedding themselves into his skin. Sam sat there for a moment, breathing hard as his eyes raked every corner of the room, hunting for his brother. It was only a second, or maybe an hour or a year, before he realised how wet his clothes had become, his thigh and arms dripping with blood. 

Black blood. Black blood that came from his veins. Blood that was as black as coal and belonged to the demon he really was. 

“Get it out,” Sam gasped, rubbing away at his skin as it burned, as the blood still flowed, as he grew woozy. He didn’t care. All he knew was that he had to get it out any way possible. 

Looking to the shards around him, Sam knew exactly what to do next; picking up a shard he slammed it into his arm again and again and again, blood splurting out in a fountain of black, his fingers slicing open as he continued to plunge it through his skin that cut like butter. 

“Sam!” Someone was shouting. “Sam!  _ Sam! SAM!”  _ Dean. That was Dean. He was shouting. His hand was on his. His hand was pulling his arm back and wrapping a cloth over his arm and hand, his grip tight to try and stem the flow of blood. “Sam stay with me,” he said, tapping his brother’s face. Sam missed half his words, unable to focus for more than a second, the world fading in and out of focus but he could tell that someone was screaming.  “Sam! Breath. Hold on and breath. Just do that. You can do that. Can you hear me? Sam! Talk to me!”

“D’n?” Sam asked as his eyes began to fall shut, the adrenaline that had fueled him dying away. 

“I’m here Sammy,” Dean replied, “I’m going to make this better.” 

 

Xxx

 

Dean had comeback from the bar, needing to get away from Sam and his jittery nature. He loved his brother, but if he continued to shake his arms and legs he was going to have to chain him up. He climbed into bed, his slightly hazy mind only just noting that Sam must be in the bathroom since h the light was on in there, before he practically passed out. 

Only to be startled awake by a clatter and the sound of shattering glass. 

His phone told him he’d slept an hour, and his sluggish movement echoed such, and it took him a minute to steady himself enough to walk into the bathroom and find Sam. 

Sam, soaked in blood, plundering his skin with a shard of glass, spilling his blood all over the rotting stone. 

“Sam,” he breathed, repeating the syllable again and again as a prayer, getting louder each time as he noticed Sam’s actions refusing to halt. “Sam!” He cried, trying to halt he bleeding with the only not read piece of cloth in the room, although it was quickly soaked through too. “Sam! Breath!” He yelled, his brother’s breath faltering as it sent Dean into a panic. “Sam! Sam! SAM!” He continued to talk to his brother, trying to keep him awake as his eyes fluttered. He kept trying to apply pressure, and the bleeding began to slow, but it never quite stopped. 

“Dean!” Sam gasped as pain wracked his body, eyes flying open once before they rolled back into his head and he passed out. 

Or at least, Dean thought they rolled back… it was hard to tell since they were solid black. 

 

Xxx

 

“Dad, call me back. Something’s wrong with Sam,” Dean said for the umpteenth time, his father’s phone only going to voicemail each time. 

Pocketing the phone, Dean walked back into the hospital room and took up his post by ‘Sam’s’ bedside, his body wrapped up in bandages as drugs dripped into his system through plastic tubes. It hurt Dean to see his brother like this… if it even was Sam. He couldn’t get the sight of those black eyes out of his head, those demon eyes, and yet he’d tested Sam with holy water and salt the moment he’d had the chance, and he’d found nothing. Whatever he’d seen though… that wasn’t human. That wasn’t Sam. His brother wouldn’t stab himself like that, wouldn’t hurt himself like that, unless something was possessing him… but he’d seen nothing smoke out of him, which meant that either he was seeing things or there was still something in Sam. 

What’s more, the doctors had been unable to identify what was wrong, not completely; he’d had drugs in his system, drugs that they couldn’t identify, and yet were providing him with more energy than should be humanly possible. 

Dean ran his hand over his face, slumping back in his chair in the process as he considered his next options, but he came up with nothing; he needed help. 

“Bobby,” he said when the older man picked up the phone, “I need your help. It’s Sam.”

 

Xxx

 

Brady had nearly laughed at how easy it was to hide from the Winchesters whilst controlling every aspect of their futures. 

Sam had come in needing blood, lots of it, and Brady (in the body of a doctor) had been more than willing to supply. He only gave him a pint, needing to know how it worked, but the moment Sam’s body had accepted it he’d provided a bit more. It stopped the withdrawal, and it helped the boy to fall ever further. The boy had gone from a few drops to a few mouthfuls to pints of blood coursing through his veins. 

So long as he remained mostly human he’d be able to hold the mostly pure archangel, and he’d be the perfect king. 

“Why not just take him and beat him into submission?” Meg asked from the body of a nurse. “That would be much faster.”

“Because he would fight back constantly,” Brady said, rolling his eyes as he answered the same question again and again. “But if he loved me? If I asked him to jump he’d only ask ‘how high?’”

Both demons smirked, watching as Dean Winchester called his surrogate father in to save his dear brother. 

 

Xxx

 

John Winchester listened to every single one of Dean’s voicemails as he drove towards his sons, knowing fully well what was wrong with Sam; he was becoming but another of the monsters they hunted… but John would stop him. He would save them all from Sam and the plans the yellow eyed demon had for them. He knew exactly what to do. 

John Winchester was going to murder his son. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone noticed that I don't edit my chapters? Not in a show off way, more in a 'is my writing ok without editing or would you rather it if I did'? If so it would take longer to churn out the chapters so I'm in need of opinions.


	7. Traps and trust

“It’s ok boy, I’m here now,” Bobby said as he pulled Dean into a brief hug on arrival at the hospital. 

“I don’t know what to do Bobby,” Dean admitted; it had been seven hours and Sam was still asleep. No black smoke had gone in or out of him, and he’d not responded to anything at all. 

“Now, explain to me what’s happened, and leave out nothing.” 

Dean complied, explaining how Sam had been behaving weirdly, from his constant fidgeting to disappearing for hours at a time to growing sicker and sicker until he was stabbing himself in the bathroom with black eyes. 

“And yer sure that nothing’s come outta him?” Bobby finally asked, just as confused as Dean. “Well I gotta tell you, whatever this is it’s somethin’ demonic, and somethin’ big. We’d best get him back to mine.” 

“How big?” Dean asked, dread coiling in his stomach. 

“Yer Winchesters. It’s bound to be somethin’ apocalyptic.” 

 

Xxx

 

“I must advise you against this, Mr Monroe,” Brady said from the body of a doctor. “Your brother isn’t in a stable condition yet, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s still unconscious.” 

“Yes, well, I’m sure we can sort this out ourselves, thanks doc,” Dean replied, checking Sam out and returning to Bobby. “We’re good to go,” Dean said as he re entered the room, his brother already being loaded into a wheelchair to take him away. 

“I’ve tested him too,” Bobby gruffly replied, as he lead Dean (who was pushing Sam) towards the car park. “Nothing. Not one thing draws any results. Are yeh sure that he had black eyes? Or were you just panicked?” 

“I’m sure Bobby. It wasn’t him. You didn’t see what he was doing.” 

“I believe ya boy, but if yer right then we’re dealing with some serious demon possession. We need to get him locked down until we know what’s going on.” Bobby hated to think about his boy like one of those beasts, but he had to just in case. 

“We’re not gonna tie him up, Bobby. He’s my brother,” Dean replied, walking towards the Impala and lying his giant of a brother down on the back seat. 

“I’ve got somethin’ to show you, boy, if yeh think I’d tie either of you up,” Bobby replied with a small smile, though he hid it before anyone could see. 

 

Xxx

 

“Bobby, you’re amazing,” Dean said as he looked around in awe at the panic room, but it didn’t last long before his eyes were drawn back to his brother lying on the too small bed, right in the middle of a devil’s trap. 

“Now I know you boy, and I know you wanna stay with yer brother, but this is somethin’ we don’t have a clue about. It’s not safe t’ stay in ‘ere,” Bobby said. 

“I can’t leave him,” Dean protested. 

“And I’m not telling yeh to. Just stay outside the room.” 

Looking to the door, Dean could see Bobby’s point; he was up against something he hadn’t seen before, and if he was to stay in the room then he’d get hurt, and then be no use to Sam. 

“I’m leaving the door open,” Dean said, only willing to go so far. Bobby only huffed in response before the pair walked out, Dean remaining by the door and Bobby off to search through his books. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam awoke with a pounding in his head and aching all over. Above him he saw a devil’s trap fan, the light streaming through it causing him to squint and lift a hand to cover his eyes. 

“Sammy?” He heard Dean ask, and Sam turned his head to find Dean leaning against a thick door, the neck of a beer bottle in his hand. 

“Dean,” Sam said, his tongue more like a block of lead than anything else. “Dean, what… what happened?” His arms were bandaged until they were twice their normal thickness, a dull pain radiating through them. His thigh, too, throbbed dully.

“You tell me,” Dean replied, going against what Bobby had told him and taking a step into the room. “I found you stabbing yourself in the bathroom.”

“I-” Sam began, the palm of his hand pressed into his temple. “I don’t remember…. I….” 

It all came rushing back: the pain, Dean, the blood, why he wore such ridiculous bandages. 

“Dean, were you… did you… was it really you?” Sam asked, fear coating his words as he scooted up into sitting position, Dean shifting his weight in preparation just in case ‘Sam’ did something. “Were you there?”

“Was I- Sam, what are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“You-” Sam began, but he realised quickly that it was all in his imagination. “Dean, what’s going on?” 

“We don’t know,” Dean admitted, trying to figure out if this really was his brother, or if it was something that could act very well. “We thought you were possessed at first Sammy. You were uncontrollable, and you had-” Dean cut himself off, taking a deep breath before he started again. “Look, just, come on out and we can talk.” 

Dean turned and took a few steps away, waiting for Sam to follow. But he wasn’t letting him out because he trusted that it was Sam; it was to see if he could cross the devil’s trap without any problems. 

Sam sat up, his whole body seeming to be weighed down, his limbs made of stone instead of skin. He pushed himself to his feet, a rush of blood to his head causing him to stumble slightly, and he took a few slightly painful off balanced steps forward before orientating himself and coming to his senses. He’d crossed the devil’s trap, and he’d been fine. But in it? In it he was weak. 

He didn’t know that though. 

“You ok?” Dean asked, watching Sam carefully. 

“Yeah, just a bit woozy,” Sam replied, blinking rapidly as he started walking towards the exit, his head spinning until he left the room, realising as soon as he left that he was in Bobby’s basement.  “What- what is that thing?” He asked, referring to the room he’d been in. 

“Bobby built a panic room,” Dean replied, not wanting to reveal too much to Sam, even though he’d passed every test. 

He knew, he just  _ knew _ , that there was something wrong with Sam. 

“That’s,” Sam began, lost for words, “that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Dean replied with a smile, before climbing the stairs to find Bobby behind his desk, stacks of books around him. “Look who’s up Bobby,” Dean said as he ran his hand through his hair. 

Bobby watched with wide eyes as Sam walked up from the basement. 

“Heya Bobby,” Sam said, coming over with a small smile as he pulled Bobby into a brief hug. Bobby used that time to shoot a questioning glance over at Dean, but the other hunter just shrugged to try and convey all his emotions without having to actually admit them; he was scared, he knew something was wrong, but this was Sam. It had to be Sam, because they had no clue what they’d do if it wasn’t. 

 

Xxx

 

“I don’t know what ter tell yeh boy, but that is yer brother,” Bobby said that night once Sam had gone to bed. Indeed, Sam had passed every test, which they had subtly repeated throughout the day.

“But Bobby,” Dean said, wanting so badly to believe that it was Sam, “I just can’t shake the feeling that-”

“That something’s not right. I’m with yeh Dean, but I don’t know what to say.” Both men looked to the stairs which could take them to Sam’s room. “Look, whatever this is, it won’t be helped by us smotherin’ him. I say you take him out on a hunt, an easy salt ‘n burn, and watch ‘im carefully. I’ll keep looking here, and you keep me informed.” 

“Yeah, yeah ok Bobby,” Dean agreed, taking another long drink from his beer. 

“And be careful,” Bobby finally said. 

“You know me,” Dean replied, mustering as much cocky bravado as he could. 

Neither of them knew that Sam could hear their conversation through the thin walls. Neither of them knew that he was aware of how little they trusted him, and how much that hurt. 

_ Hey Brady,  _ Sam quickly texted.  _ About to go on a hunt. See you in a few days? _

The reply came within seconds.  _ Can’t wait Sammy boy.  _


	8. The only way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say I enjoyed writing this one and I couldn't wait for it so I decided to give it to you people early :)

Dean, not wanting to risk being near demons, chose a simple salt and burn in Wisconsin. He watched Sam carefully, and when he went to get their food from the diner he made sure to add a bit of holy water to his coffee, and slightly too much salt to the salad. 

Sam knew what was going on the moment the salad touched his tongue, the salt not at all subtle. It burnt his tongue slightly, but then too much salt on anything would do that to you. He said nothing, simply continued eating, determined to show his brother that he was fine. He had just been… sick. Yeah, sick. That was all. 

He wasn’t some demonic freak. He didn’t have demon blood in him. 

_ Meet me at 7?  _ Brady asked, the text coming through just as Sam finished his food. 

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, trying to remain casual. 

Sam hesitated for a moment, but he wanted to avoid lying as much as possible, so he just replied “Brady. He was a friend from Stanford.” Dean didn’t need to know that Brady was a demon, or that he lov-  _ had  _ loved him. 

“Did you tell him anything?” Did you betray the family, was the unspoken question. Did Dean really trust him that little now? 

“He’s had experience with the supernatural. I didn’t need to,” Sam replied, also trying to keep calm and not give anything away. 

Dean knew that there was more to the story; he could read Sam like a book, and he knew when his brother was hiding something from him, but pushing it would be way too suspicious right now, so he left it. 

At six thirty Sam announced that he was going to the library to research their ghost, and Dean nearly told him no.

“I’m feeling much better now Dean. You don’t need to worry,” Sam said in reply, trying to push Dean away, knowing that this whole case was a way for Dean to keep an eye on him and test whether he really was completely Sam. 

“You were not just sick Sam, so don’t act like it!” Dean growled, finally losing his patience. 

Sam paused at the door, his fingers falling away from the handle. “I’m fine, Dean,” he said, praying that his brother would believe him. 

“Bullshit,” Dean spat. “You nearly stabbed yourself to death.”

“I was sick! I was hallucinating shit!” Sam yelled, losing his temper as the lights grew brighter, electricity building up in them. 

“You think I’m stupid?” Dean yelled back. “Do you really expect me to believe that? That you’re fine?” The wind picked up outside the motel. 

“Well why is it so hard to believe?” Sam demanded, an anger he almost couldn’t believe building up within him. 

“Because you had black eyes!” Dean yelled, the words slipping out before he could stop them. 

Sam stumbled back at that, the anger immediately giving way to fear. “W-what?” He stammered, eyes wide. 

“You had black eyes, Sam,” Dean whispered, taking a seat on the bed. The wind outside stopped blowing, the lights returned to normal. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, voice completely flat as his mind ran a hundred miles an hour. 

“I wouldn’t make this up, Sammy.”

Sam took a breath before turning and numbly walking out despite Dean’s protests. All the lights blew when the door slammed. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam stormed into the apartment Brady had named, but the moment the door closed behind him he lost all his anger and fear, instead just collapsing into a heap on the floor as tears spilled from his eyes. 

“Sam? Sam!” Brady exclaimed, rushing over and pulling Sam in close as he cried, his hands smoothing the other’s hair as the tears fell. “What’s wrong?” He asked once Sam started breathing normally again. 

“Dean,” Sam replied, sitting up and pressing his palms into his eyes, blinking repeatedly until he could see clearly again. “He- he saw my eyes.”

“You have lovely eyes,” Brady immediately replied. 

“My eyes went black,” Sam whispered, his veins like ice. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Sam asked, jumping to his feet. “What, like you knew this would happen?”

“No!” Brady yelled, also rising, holding his hands up when he saw Sam’s eyes darken. “I swear, I didn’t know! I just- I don’t know what will happen to you Sammy! You’re the first of your kind, so I suppose anything would be possible!” 

“So what? Will I become a demon? Will I have to spend my life dodging hunters and devil’s traps?” Sam demanded, his rage building, the lights becoming too bright once again, causing Brady to look around in alarm. 

“Sam calm down,” Brady said, trying to placate the boy. 

“Why should I? Monsters don’t stay calm, and I guess I’m become one of you!” Sam growled, stalking forward as his eyes completely turned black. 

“Sam look at your eyes!” Brady shouted when the lights blew. “Look at your eyes!”   
A quick glance in a mirror showed Sam all he needed to see; even with the lack of lights he could tell they were black. Demon black. 

And it scared the hell out of him. 

“What’s happening to me?” His voice was so small, cracking as he turned back to Brady, as his eyes faded back to their normal hazel. 

“I don’t know,” Brady whispered, pulling Sam in close and holding him tight. “But I’m going to help you. I’ll do what I can, I’ll do everything I can,” Brady said, his hands smoothing Sam’s hair once again. 

“I know,” Sam replied, pulling back. “Look, I just- I know that I’m not human, and I know that I have a lot of power. I know that- that I am going to have to do things that I’m not comfortable with to control… whatever this is… but I have some rules.” 

“That’s ok! That’s good, even,” Brady replied, cupping Sam’s face.

“I won’t be your king, and I won’t kill people,” Sam becan, a rattling breath escaping his lungs. “I refuse to hurt people too, and I don’t want Dean to know anything else.”

“Ok I can work with that,” Brady replied, nodding along as Sam spoke. “But-” 

“But?” Sam asked when Brady hesitated to continue. 

“Look, it’s just… you have a lot of power, ok? And the more power you have the harder it is to control-”   
“I can learn. I  _ will  _ learn,” Sam insisted, desperate to not be a monster, desperate not to hurt people. 

“I don’t think you can,” Brady murmured. 

“Why-”

“Not on your own,” Brady quickly replied.

“How?” Sam asked, dread coiling in his gut. 

“You… you need to drink demon blood. It would allow you to have a greater grasp on your powers to work on them separately.” 

“You want me to drink blood? You want me to become one of you?” Sam sneered, lights outside the apartment beginning to blow. 

“No! No if you only have a few mouthfuls a week you won’t become like me. It would take pints and pints of the tuff. I can control how much you have, and I’ll make sure you only have the bare minimum.” Brady made sure he sounded weak, sounded like it was entirely Sam’s choice, and that he wanted the best for him. 

“No. No, I can’t do that. I can’t be like… like a vampire,” Sam spat, trying to convince himself that he could find a way to control all of this on his own, trying to convince himself that he could remain human, that his powers were something that he could ignore to make them go away. 

“If you don’t you’ll lose control and hurt people. This is the only way,” Brady pressed his forehead against Sam’s, watching as Sam shut his eyes as if to escape what was happening to him. 

He’d seen all the broken trees and knocked over bins, he knew how he’d caused lights to explode and winds to pick up. He knew that he had no control, and that he couldn’t avoid hurting people for much longer; he’d felt so much anger towards Dean earlier, and he had felt the power humming beneath his skin. He would hurt people. It was only a matter of time. 

Unless…

“What would it do to me?” Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“You’d become immune to any other demons’ powers, and you’d be able to exorcise them or even kill them without harming the people they possess. You wouldn’t become a demon, nor would you feel more demonic. You’d be human, or as human as you are now.”

“And how would this help me with control?” Sam asked, having not heard anything about that. 

“It would… it would connect you to hell, in a way. It would let you feel the power and its source, and that would let you separate them and work on them individually. You could also suppress the ones that you didn’t want to work on yet.” 

“And if I wanted to suppress it all?” Sam asked, not wanting anything to do with the power, with hell. 

“Then I would teach you how to do that too,” Brady replied. 

Sam fell silent for a minute, running through all scenarios in his head, trying to figure out a way out of this mess. “How do I get the blood?” 

Brady pulled out a knife, using it to make a shallow cut on his neck as he tilted his head to the side, leaving himself open for Sam. “I’ll stop you when you need to stop,” Brady said as Sam leant in, his body shaking. 

There was a line between human and monster. He’d hoped that he would never cross it, but even now he knew that that choice had been taken from him when he was six months old. 

“Ok,” Sam whispered, before licking the blood from the wound and sucking it down, unable to see the smirk etched into Brady’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***evil laughter***


	9. Volta

“I don’t know how else to tell you Bobby. Sam took off!” Dean was practically yelling down the phone, his distress obvious by his rumpled hair, which he’d ran his hands through too many times. 

“The whole point of an easy hunt was to keep an eye on ‘im, you idjit!” Bobby roared back. “You were meant to watch ‘im and test ‘im, and make sure yer brother was human!” 

“Well I know that,” Dean said, taking a calming breath as he ran his hand over his face. “I don’t know what’s going on Bobby, but he’s… he passed all the tests, but he has powers Bobby. He’s my brother, but he has fucking demon powers.”

“Are you- are you sure they’re his?” Bobby asked, reaching wit’s end. 

“Well they reacted with his emotions, so yeah. I’m pretty sure Sammy has freaky light bulb exploding, black eye turning, powers. They’re his. I’m sure of it.” 

“Ok, well,” Bobby began as he sighed. “I’m gonna hit the books, you find yer brother,” Bobby said, “but make sure you play this smart. He may be yer brother boy, and he’s a son to me, but you need to be smart. Treat this like a hunt.”

“I will, I will,” Dean replied, suppressing tears as he realised what he would have to do. “Oh and Bobby?” Dean asked just before the older hunter could hang up. He heard a grunt of ‘go ahead’ before continuing; “Sam mentioned a ‘Brady’, said he was one of his friends from Stanford and came from a family of hunters. Could you find him for me?” 

“I’ll see what I can do, boy, but that’s near to nothing to go on” Bobby replied before hanging up. “Balls!” He exclaimed, pulling books off his shelves. 

Dean scrolled through his contacts until he came to his father’s, hesitating for a moment before pressing the call button. It rang once, twice, three times, and then went to voicemail. 

“Dad, it’s me. I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but there is something demonic going on with Sam, and I have no clue what’s going on here. Please, just… if you could just call me back then… Call me Dad. We need you.” Dean hung up and threw his phone on the bed in frustration, falling beside it as he tried to figure out what to do next. Did he go out and hunt his brother? Did he wait for him to come back? Did he call him? 

The choice was made when the phone rang. “Sammy?” Dean asked as he answered the phone without even glancing at the screen, sitting up immediately. 

“Dean,” his father’s gruff voice replied, and Dean found himself back as a soldier, just waiting for the orders to come in. “Listen carefully. I need you to tell me where you are,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for debate. 

“We’re on a hunt in Wisconsin,” Dean immediately replied before rattling off the motel’s address. “Dad do you know what’s going on with him?” Dean asked at last. 

“I have an idea,” John replied, offering up no more information. “Dean, I need you to stay where you are and wait until I arrive. Don’t anger Sam, and don’t engage. Wait until he comes back to you; we need to meet him on our grounds.” 

“How do you know he will come back?” Dean asked, willing to obey all of his father’s orders if he answered that one question. 

“Because he cares for you, in some twisted way that demons care. He will come for you.” 

“So… so it’s him?” Dean asked, mouth dry, dreading the answer. 

“He is a monster now Dean,” John replied, the answer vague but answer enough. Yes, it was Sam. “Now do as I said.” John hung up without a word, Dean willing to obey without question thanks to his training. 

But his rage had him throwing a lamp against a wall, the porcelain shattering on impact. 

Sitting back down, head in his hand, he pulled out his gun and checked the bullets; when Sam came back he would be ready to defend himself, but only if absolutely necessary. When, not if. His dad had been right; Sam and him shared a bond, one that would have Sam coming back to him. 

And yet it went both ways, because if it came down to it, Dean would not be able to shoot his brother. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam was in a state of ecstasy; he could feel his powers, feel how they flowed through him, just waiting to be used. He could feel where they came from, could tell that they were born of hell, and yet they were for him to command. If he wanted to use them for good, then they were to be used for good. 

He  _ would  _ use them for good. 

“Stop Sam,” Brady said at last, the boy having drunk just over what he had been fed for the past few months, enough so that he would feel it, especially considering that it was straight from the source. Now… now he was aware of it, and he was consuming more than before. Brady’s blood was already in his system, and when added to the fresh blood it was making him more powerful than anyone could imagine. 

He would be magnificent. 

“I can…” Sam began,panting as he pulled away from Brady. “I can feel it. I can… I can control it. I can learn to control it.” He had so much hope in his voice, so much that it almost made Brady feel something. 

Almost. 

“I can teach you,” Brady replied, lowering him to the ground until Sam was on his knees, Brady holding him up by his shoulders. “But before then, you need to learn to feel it. You need to  _ learn  _ your power.” Sam registered his words, beginning to nod along. “Close your eyes, focus on the power, and take a deep breath. Follow the power, follow it to its source. Feel every aspect of it.” Brady felt it as Sam surrounded himself in his gifts, his power expanding to coat the room in a blanket of hell and lifting all objects off the floor. And the further his mind went towards the source, the further his mind reached into hell itself. 

The pair remained that way for nearly an hour, Brady talking to Sam, encouraging him to feel his power, but not pushing him too far; if he did then Sam would realise that something was wrong. This was a marathon, not a sprint. 

“Ok Sam, time to come back. Time to return to me Sammy. Come back to me,” Brady murmured, his words almost constant as Sam came out, taking nearly an hour to come back to reality. At that point, when he opened his eyes, every piece of furniture in the room fell back to the ground and the blanket lifted. 

“Wow,” was all Sam said, his pupils completely dilated. 

“Just wait until you can harness it. You could suppress it, sure, but you could do so much more Sammy. You could exorcise demons, kill them even, and not kill the hosts.” He had Sam’s interest. “You could  _ save  _ people.”

“Why would you want to teach me how to kill demons?” Sam asked, his senses returning to normal. 

“I may be one, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch them thrive,” Brady replied, his thumb coming up to wipe the blood off Sam’s lips. “I want to help you.” 

Later, Sam would blame it on the after effects of the blood, the feeling of power making him feel almost drunk. Except he was in his right mind, and he couldn’t really blame the blood for his actions. Leaning forward he captured Brady’s lips in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongues battling for dominance, his hands coming up to pull at Brady’s short strands of hair. 

“Sammy,” Brady murmured when Sam pulled away for air, barely leaving an inch between them though. 

“Thank you,” Sam replied, “thank you.”

“What for?” Brady asked, a coy smile gracing his lips. 

“For standing by me. For being there for me,” Sam replied, smiling as he felt his powers fall into slumber once again. 

“You should get back to your brother,” Brady replied with a sigh, pulling the hunter to his feet. “Just… just call me, ok? I’ll see you in a few days.”  Nodding, Sam gave Brady one more chaste kiss before leaving to return to his brother. 

The walk took half an hour, his mind on what he would do now. He wasn’t a fool; he may have been lost to his powers for some time, but he hadn’t forgotten about what his brother had seen, what he had done. He was screwed. 

In the end he chose to just grab the bull by the horns, face his problems straight on. Hiding them would only make it worse. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam said, walking back into the motel room, his eyes downcast. 

“Sam,” Dean replied, nodding back. “Did you have a good walk?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah it was, it was fine.” Sam’s hand came up to tangle in his hair, awaiting his brother’s condemnation. 

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe he should have thought more about it. Maybe he should have run away from the  _ hunters  _ who would want to  _ hunt  _ him for being some demon freak. 

“Good,” was all Dean replied before climbing into bed, his gun beneath his pillow. Sam, seeing no other options, copied his brother’s actions and fell into his own bed, a current under his skin ever present. 

Sam didn’t miss the fact that Dean’s breathing never evened out whilst he was awake; it seemed his brother didn’t trust him enough to sleep in the same room as him, at least whilst he was still conscious.

 

Xxx

 

“Dean, call me when you get this,” Bobby growled into his phone, Dean’s voicemail on the other end. “I managed to dig around, found what I could about tha’ Brady boy. Turns out he had a dramatic personality change ‘fore turnin’ up on a missin’ person’s case. He’s not a hunter boy. This sounds like a full on demon possession!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta say I'm having a lot of fun with this story. I will admit that I may take pride in my sadistic streak... this is going to be fun (for me)


	10. Who's Brady?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I don't want to spoil anything, but I think that I have a thing for the boys arguing in motel rooms....

Dean sat on his bed, Bobby’s voicemail on loop whilst Sam was in the shower. 

He was numb. Rubbing a hand over his face, Dean put his phone in his pocket before pulling out his gun, getting a rag as well to start cleaning it having heard the shower turn off. “Everything ok?” Dean asked Sam when he entered the room, his voice as nonchalant as possible; he didn’t want his brother to realise that something was off. Not yet. 

“Yeah,” Sam replied, and Dean couldn’t help but notice how good his brother looked, how strong, how healthy. It was such a difference from how he had been a few weeks ago that Dean wouldn’t have suspected he had been ill or injured, had it not been for the scars on his arm. “Have you checked out that case yet?” Sam asked, referring to the case he had found over in Michigan, Dean having wanted to take a look at it before they set off, for some reason. 

“No uh, no. Not yet,” Dean replied, his eyes on his gun. Hisfather had said to stay, to wait… but Sam was going to suspect something if he didn’t move, and if he was hanging around with demons… if he was working with them…

“Well I’m pretty sure its demons, and I can tell you the rest on the drive,” Sam said, pulling on his jeans and shirt. 

“I uh, I don’t know about you Sammy but I kinda want a break for a bit, maybe just hang around for a few days or something and relax.” 

“You want a break? You?” Sam barked out a laugh, one that conveyed his worry for his brother. “Ok seriously dude, if you’re worried about me you shouldn’t be. I’m fine. I’m better than fine,” Sam said, his arms spread and voice upbeat, and yet his face betrayed his fear. 

“Yeah, yeah you are Sam,” Dean replied, head bowed but his laugh harsh. “You’re more than fine, and yet you went through some freaky shit, and you stabbed yourself repeatedly from some mystery illness, and yet you have healed and aren’t experiencing any pain or… or anything. You’re fine.” 

“What- what do you want me to say, Dean? I just got better ok? That’s what happens when we risk hospitals.” He could feel his powers beginning to rise up, his emotions ruling them instead of his head. A deep breath had him calming slightly, his powers fading into a low hum once again.

“No hospital can do that Sammy. Nothing  _ human  _ can do that.” Dean sneered, his gun lose by his side but the safety off. Screw what his dad wanted, he was getting some answers. “I tried Sammy, I really tried, but you had black eyes, and you have powers that I’ve only seen confronting demons. Not to mention your superhuman body. Forget the healing, you’re stronger and faster and more than you had been before. So stop giving me this bullshit ‘I’m fine’, and start telling me the truth!” He was shouting, and yet he didn’t care anymore. Sam looked at him in fear, but for once he didn’t care about his brother’s feelings. 

“Dean,” Sam began, trying to put into words what his brother wanted, and yet unable to deliver. 

“No, don’t. I know that face, and you aren’t going to start lying again. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

“Dean,” Sam tried, slightly more forceful this time, needing to say something, needing for his brother to see him not as a monster. 

“Who’s Brady?” Dean suddenly asked, unable to hold back any longer. 

“Wh- what?” 

“Who’s Brady?” He spoke slowly, eyes alight with anger. 

“He’s a friend from Stanford,” Sam replied, begging for Dean to ask nothing else. Except he was a Winchester. 

“A friend? Was he still human when you got to know him?”

Shit.  _ Shit!  _ “What do you mean?” Sam asked, that phrase seeming to be becoming his favourite phrase as of late.

“I mean, did you get to know him before or after he was possessed by a demon?” 

Dean was too calm holding that gun, not at all behaving as if this were his brother in front of him; he was seeing a monster he had to hunt. That was the only thing keeping him from letting his brother go, because if he did… he didn’t want to think about what Sam could do. He had a feeling Sam’d only scratched the surface of his powers when he’d been angry with him.

“I was helping him,” Sam said, so small in that moment. “I didn’t know. I thought he was on drugs. I was just trying to help him.” 

“And when you found out what was really going on?” Dean didn’t know what he really wanted to hear. 

“He was good. He was a good one, he didn’t want to be a demon, Dean. He’s not like the others!” His powers began to rise up again, but he couldn’t calm down again. 

“How do you know?” Dean shouted back, disbelieving everything he heard, both about the ‘good demon’ and Sam’s faith in him. 

“He’s helping me, he isn’t hurting anyone!” 

“Helping you do what?” 

Sam faltered, realising what he’d said in his desperation to defend himself and Brady. “Learn control,” he replied at last, his voice so small. “He’s teaching me to control my- my powers.” 

“Your freaky demon powers? Those powers? The ones you couldn’t control last time you got angry?” Dean was calmer now, or maybe just more controlled, although it was mostly just because he was hearing the truth for once. 

“Yes but, but they’re mine, Dean. I’m… when I was a child a demon did… something. He, he gave me powers. And yes, they came from a demon, but I can use them for good, I can learn to kill demons and leave the humans alive!” 

“Sam,” Dean breathed, horrified by what he was hearing. “Sam you, you can’t think, you can’t really believe that that is true. You can’t really… Sammy, he’s using you! Brady is manipulating you! You’re not…” Dean didn’t know what to say. Dead he shoot? Did he wait for their father? Did he tell Sam to run?

Sam, who had tears spilling down his cheeks, his puppy dog eyes trying to break through Dean’s harsh resolve. “Sam, please. Please just… just listen to me. I can help you. We can, we can go to Bobby’s and he can sort something out. We can do some spells to make you human, we can-” 

“Dean, we aren’t doing anything,” Sam quietly replied, “but I am going to go and learn how to control my powers, and you can help me if you like, but we aren’t going to get rid of them.” Sam didn’t know where this cool, composed version of him had come from, and yet he wasn’t complaining. He kind of liked it, and the comfort of his powers within him. 

“Sam,” Dean began, except he was cut off before he could finish his sentence by a loud banging on the door. 

Dean rushed to open the door, his haste having him ignore everything except the need to get this fucker gone as quickly as possible. “Look whatever it is-” Dean began, but stopped the moment he saw who was on the other side he cut off and straightened up. 

“Dean, where’s Sam?” John Winchester asked, barging into the room before halting as his eyes fell on his second son. “Sam,” John said, drawing his gun. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” Dean asked, voice shaking slightly as he stepped between the two men. 

“What needs to be done,” John replied. “Now get out of my way Dean,” John barked, Sam not moving, except for him shaking in fear. 

“No,” Dean said at last, swallowing. “Dad, we can sort this out some other way. This is Sam! He’s your son, my brother!” 

“Dad,” Sam said, the syllable nearly a question. 

“He’s not been human since he was six months old, have you?” The last part was directed towards Sam, who swallowed. 

“Dad, I can explain,” Sam said, inadvertently confirming John’s words. 

“Sammy?” Dean asked, turning and taking a step back, moving to stand by his father’s side once again. 

“I can control it. I’m getting help, and I swear I am not a demon. I’m not like them!” Sam had his hands in the air, needing his family to believe him, praying that he could be saved. 

“Not yet,” John replied. 

The gunshot echoed throughout the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologise, but I'm not sorry ;)


	11. Demon Deals

It was all so fast. The gun fired, the bullet was shot, and John’s aim was perfect. Sam was meant to be dead. 

Except he threw his hands up, he panicked and he diverted the bullet, reversing its direction almost completely. Almost. 

The bullet went right through Dean’s neck, the spray of arterial blood coating John’s face as he looked on in horror. Blood poured from Dean’s mouth, the hunter choking on it as he fell to his knees and then the floor, John cradling his head as he caught his son. 

“Dean? Dean!” John cried, fatherly emotion finally showing itself after over two decades of nothingness. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.”

Sam in turn grabbed his hair, practically ripping it out as he began to panic, his breath coming too fast and vision tunneling until all he could see was Dean, lying in a pool of his own blood, dying because of him. Dean was dying because of him, because he didn’t have control, because he had- he had- 

He had killed his brother to save himself. He had killed an innocent human, a person, his brother. He was no better than the monsters he hunted, no better than the demon he was. 

“Dean,” Sam gasped, reaching out to try and do something, anything, to save his brother. Dean’s eyes fell to Sam’s, the action clearly draining the rest of his energy, his skin greying and breaths becoming too laboured.

Dean’s face was etched in fear as he died, fear of Sam and what he would do. 

“You did this,” John growled, Sam looking up quickly to see John’s fury as he drew his gun and tried to point it at Sam, only with Dean’s body in the way he was hindered long enough for Sam to sprint out of the room, the bullets embedding themselves in the door. 

Sam ran. He ran until his lungs burned and legs collapsed, until he was on his knees with his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face as the memory of Dean’s face haunting him. Sam screamed himself hoarse, crying out for his brother, for forgiveness, for damnation. He didn’t know what he wanted, except that he needed Dean to be alive and safe again. Except Dean wouldn’t be safe with him. No. He needed Dean as far from him as possible, and he needed his powers to be completely under control. 

“Brady,” Sam whispered, tasting blood when he spoke thanks to his ravaged throat. Fumbling around in his pocket, Sam eventually produced his phone and dialed the demon’s number, the message going straight to voicemail. “Brady please. Please come. Please.” He didn’t care that he was a dribbling, begging mess; Brady was a demon, and demons could do…  _ something.  _ They worked with hell, torturing souls, and if they could do something with souls then maybe… maybe they could get one back. 

Collapsing with the phone in his hand like a lifeline, Sam cried himself to sleep on the floor of who-knows-where, just praying to anyone listening that this was all just some sick nightmare. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam awoke in a bed big enough for him, the white sheets almost blinding as they reflected the morning sunlight into his eyes. 

“Sam,” Brady said from his post by the bed, uncoiling from his armchair to come closer. “How do you feel?” 

Sam couldn’t answer, tears building at the corners of his eyes. “He’s dead,” Sam stated. 

“Yeah. Yeah he is,” Brady replied, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry Sam. If I had known-” 

“What? You would have saved him? Stopped me? You would have done what?” Sam demanded, sitting up as his anger overtook him. 

“I would have stayed with you and made you run before John came,” Brady replied, trying to placate the ever more agitated Winchester. 

“Can you do anything? Can you bring him back?” Sam’s voice broke, his tears fell. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t live on knowing that he had killed his brother. He couldn’t, he  _ wouldn’t.  _ He’d do anything to take it back, to bring Dean back. 

“Demons can’t return a soul without taking one,” Brady replied, an apology in his voice. 

“Take mine then,” Sam rushed to say, not caring what the consequences would be for him, knowing fully well that he would die. 

“It has to be a human soul, and yours is… not,” Brady replied, and Sam felt a bit more of himself break. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t human, but to know that he couldn’t save Dean because of it… 

He didn’t know just how much Brady had done to him, how much he had lied. 

“Can I- can I do anything?” Sam asked, the sheets nearly breaking as he fisted his hands in them, his powers beginning to react to his emotions despite all his training. 

“Only the King of Hell has that much power,” Brady said, making it sound like an apology, but knowing perfectly well what Sam would see it as. 

“You said I could be the King, didn’t you?” Sam asked, hope suddenly blossoming within him. “You said it would be possible.” 

“Sam-” Brady began, attempting not to show his glee. 

“Is it possible? Could I bring Dean back as the King?” Sam interrupted Brady, just needing to hear a yes or no answer. 

“Yes.”

“And- and it is possible for me to do it?” Hope. Hope was a dangerous thing, and once Sam had it he wouldn’t let it go. 

“You’d have to train harder, drink more blood, probably inject it too to make you more powerful. You wouldn’t be at all human anymore.” 

Sam only hesitated for a moment, but his mind had already been made up. For Dean he would damn himself. For Dean. 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Xxx

 

“John Winchester,” the crossroads demon said, “what can I do for you?” 

“Can you bring my son back?” John asked, every drop of grief being converted into rage and determination. 

“Oh? Has something happened?” The demon coyly asked, his British accent grating on John’s every nerve. 

“Don’t play games with me,” John growled. “Can you do it, yes or no?” 

“Yes,” the demon replied, taking a step closer, his long black coat shifting in the breeze, “except I’m a businessman. You want something, I need something in return.”

“You deal in souls, correct?” John asked, the demon humming in confirmation. “What if I gave you my other son’s in exchange?” 

“No can do Johnny boy,” the demon said, taking a step back. “It must be your own, willfully given.”

“Do you have any interest in anything else?” John asked, not liking what he was hearing. 

“No.” 

John deliberated for some time, but eventually concluded that he needed more information. “What’s the deal?” He asked, and the demon’s smile told him that he was going to make one John couldn’t refuse. 

“I bring your son, Dean, back to life, and after twenty four hours my hellhounds come for you and drag you to the pit. A soul for a soul, what d’ya say?” The demon’s smirk was an all knowing one. 

“Just twenty four hours?” John asked. 

“Just twenty four hours,” the demon confirmed. “Dean will be alive, wholly and completely unharmed, and you will rot in Hell for eternity. So do we have a deal?”

 

Xxx

 

John had lain Dean’s body on the back seat of the Impala, eyes closed to try and convince John that he was asleep. Tried. 

Dean Winchester gasped as he sat bolt upright, hand flying to his neck immediately to try and find a wound, blood, anything, and yet found nothing but smooth skin. He was alive, breathing, and whole. 

John Winchester couldn’t look his son in the eye as he drove the Impala towards Sioux Falls, going way over the speed limit and making the journey in four hours. Twenty to go. 

Dean had attempted to ask questions the whole drive there, but John had just barked at him to shut up and Dean had fallen silent immediately. He spent the trip trying to piece together what had happened to him, to Sam. He remembered a gunshot, but that was it. He could have been sure that John had fired it, but he also remembered Sam being fine. 

And fear. He remembered a lot of fear. 

“What do you want?” Bobby growled out, shotgun pointed at John’s chest as he stepped out of the Impala. 

“I want you to take Dean here and hunt Sam.” 

“And why would I do that?” Bobby asked, tightening his grip on the gun. 

“Because Sam is out of control and just killed his brother. He’s a demon, just like the rest of them, and deserves to die like one.”

“Dad?” Dean asked, all his breath gone. 

“What?” John barked. 

“What do you mean, I was dead?” 

“What did you do?” Bobby growled out at the same time, lowering the gun. 

“You are the only one who can get close to him, Dean,” John said, trying to bottle up his emotions. “You can get close enough to kill him.” 

“You sold your soul,” Bobby growled, storming inside. 

“What does he mean? Dad! What does he mean?” Dean cried, backing away, all of this being too much. He remembered now. He remembered Sam killing him, Sam diverting the bullet through his neck, himself choking to death on blood, or maybe he was bleeding to death. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. 

“I traded my soul for yours. I’ll be dead by midnight.” John marched inside, leaving his eldest son to break down in the yard. He’d soon realise that it was the right thing to do. 

Dean did indeed breath down, but after an hour of beating the shit out of Bobby’s junk cars he collapsed against one and let himself cry, Bobby bringing out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses not too soon after. 

“What was he thinking?” Dean asked, not caring that he was showing more emotion in one day than he had in over two decades. 

“He was thinking that he loves you very much, and he’d rather die than you,” Bobby replied, downing his drink before refilling both his and Dean’s. 

“I was dead. I should be the one dead.” He was broken. He had nothing left, or at least he would come midnight. 

“He didn’t seem to think so,” Bobby replied. 

The pair returned inside once they had finished the bottle, and then they sat with John and ignored the ticking clock for as long as they could. 

At 11:59 John Winchester walked outside and didn’t return. 

At 12:01 Dean and Bobby had followed him out to find his corpse cooling, both men practically numb. 

“Let’s go hunt that demonic bitch,” Dean said, readying himself to hunt the monster that had posed as his brother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying myself loads! Hope you guys are too :)


	12. The Effects of Grief

“This isn’t going to be pleasant,” Brady said, approaching Sam with a syringe full of his blood. The Winchester froze for a moment, but his need to save his brother had him nodding, Brady approaching and carefully, tenderly, pushing it into the flesh of Sam’s shoulder and injecting the vile fluid. 

Sam shuddered for a moment, but that blood transfusion Brady had performed in the hospital had primed the boy’s body for this, Sam only experiencing a quick burn in his veins before it disappeared. 

“Is that it?” Sam asked eventually, looking over to Brady as the demon removed the needle. Brady couldn’t help but smile at Sam as he saw the boy’s black eyes, although he managed to pass it off as caring. 

“That’s it,” Brady confirmed. “How do you feel?”

Sam deliberated for a moment, trying to find his powers the same way Brady had shown him before, attempting to follow it to its source. He was sort of pleased to find that it was much, much easier than before. “I’m… I’m great, actually,” Sam replied, his horror from the past day dispersing temporarily. He was practically on a high, the demon blood making him feel powerful, strong, above everyone else. 

But then it was gone, and he was reminded yet again of how much he had screwed up, of why he was doing this, of what was at stake. 

“Sam? Sam!” Brady cried, snapping Sam out of his emotional turmoil. 

“Sorry,” Sam replied, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“No,” Brady firmly replied, pushing Sam away. “You are a king, so act like one. You don’t apologize.”

“Brady-” Sam began, taken aback by Brady’s words.

“Sam, if you are going to lead demons you need to be firm. Practice now, and don’t apologize. You can’t save Dean if you aren’t completely in this.” With that thrown in his face, Sam felt like he’d been doused in ice water. 

Dean. He was doing this for Dean, and he was completely in this. If he was to be soft then the demons wouldn’t follow him. He had to do what was right, lose what made him human, and act like a king. 

He had to lose his compassion. 

“Ok,” Sam quietly said, trying to concentrate, before repeating himself but with a firmness in his voice. “Ok, no more apologizing.” 

“Good,” Brady said, hand cupping Sam’s cheek. “But just know that I am sorry for making you do this too. I wouldn’t if there were another way.”

“I know,” Sam replied, shutting his eyes and leaning into Brady’s touch. When his eyes opened again they were back to their normal hazel hue. 

“Now that that is out the way, let’s continue with your training,” Brady said, clapping his hands once before pulling Sam to his feet. 

“Yes, right,” Sam said, getting to his feet, tempted to laugh when Brady sketched a mocking bow. “Oh shut up,” Sam said, pushing Brady over as the demon laughed his ass off. 

“Now, I want you to do exactly the same as last time, follow your power, and try and pull it to the surface.” Sam shut his eyes, Brady using the time to go into the other room and drag a bound demon out and push him into a devil’s trap under a carpet. 

“Yes, yes ok,” Sam said, eyes still shit as he pulled his power to the surface. 

“Ok, now open your eyes and try and force the demon out its host.” 

“What?” Sam asked, eyes flying open to find the bound demon, whom Brady had gagged and covered their head in a bag. 

“Try and exorcise him,” Brady repeated, coming around to Sam’s side and placing his hand on his arm. “Just hold your hand out and direct it towards the demon. Try and find the demon in the host and push him really hard towards hell.” 

“How?” Sam asked, raising his hand. 

“You know how you follow your power to hell?” Bready asked, awaiting Sam’s nod before continuing. “Attach your power to the demon and push your power into hell. Drag the demon with you.” 

Sam tried, he really did, but the demon was too strong and refused to move, almost mentally attacking him to make him let go. Sam’s head began to pulse, then practically burst, then his nose ran as the pressure grew too much for him to bear. He collapsed to his knees, ceasing all attempts to exorcise the demon, Brady coming to hold him as he gasped for air. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Brady said, removing his hands to slit his wrist with the knife in his pocket, forcing it to Sam’s lips. The boy drank greedily until Brady had to forcibly remove his wrist, knowing that if Sam continued he would have double the usual dose in his system. 

“Thank you,” Sam said, wiping the blood off his lips. “I feel much better,” he said, climbing to his feet. 

“Do you want to try again?” Brady asked, and Sam nodded, more power than before coursing through him after the hit of blood. 

He began again, going through the same motions, then the same symptoms, then drinking all the blood Brady offered him. Then he began again. And again. And again. And again. 

Sam kept going for hours, working as hard as possible, pushing himself as far as he could. The blood kept him energized, pushing back his need to sleep. Sam worked until he crashed, nearly two days after he had started working. 

He awoke after ten hours, the sun just beginning to stream through the hotel room’s windows. He was in bed, even though he knew he’d collapsed on the floor. Brady wasn’t there as he looked around, so Sam opted to get himself ready for another round of training. 

Except he paused when he looked in the bathroom mirror, fingers coming up to his eyes to find them pitch black once again. Before this had freaked him out, made him panic beyond belief. But now? Now… now it was a sign that he was becoming more powerful, getting closer to saving Dean. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they,” Brady said, coming up behind Sam. 

“I wouldn’t say that, but they’re definitely something,” Sam replied, taking deep breaths to suppress his powers until his eyes returned to normal. 

The two left the room, Sam finally noticing the now open wardrobe containing sixteen stacked corpses. They were the ones he’d eventually exorcised, Brady having summoned demon after demon once Sam got on a role. He had, of course, exorcised more, but they had walked away alive. These were the ones he couldn’t save. 

“Take a break today, rest up, and tonight we’ll start on killing demons,” Brady said, going over to remove the corpses and hide the evidence. “Breakfast is on the table!” He called back, and Sam turned to find a pint glass of demon blood next to a syringe full of the same crimson liquid. 

He couldn’t hold back the smile as he drank. 

 

Xxx

 

Dean stayed with Bobby for the week, researching and tracking demonic omens at all hours, holding himself on the edge of sober and drunk; too numb to feel but aware enough to continue his work. If he thought about all he’d lost, from his father to his brother, then he’d fall apart. All that existed for him now was the hunt, just as it had been for his father, grief being forged into the all-encompassing hunt.

Bobby helped him, though he didn’t have the absolute fury driving him as Dean did, but rather an immeasurable sadness forcing him to need to protect the boys he saw as sons. Except unlike Dean he wanted to save Sam, not kill him.

Their first step had been to try and summon this Brady, force him to bring them to Sam, except Brady wasn’t his real name. Then they had tried to summon Sam, except he wasn’t demonic enough to be summoned as one, despite what anyone else thought. Bobby saw that as a cause for hope, Dean as yet another source of fuel for his burning rage. They had continued, ceasing only to sleep for a few hours before getting right back at it. 

“Right, we’re going on a hunt,” Bobby said at last, unable to watch Dean destroy himself anymore. 

“Why?” Dean snapped, needing to return to the only hunt that mattered. 

“Because sixteen corpses have been dug up not too far from here, and you need to do something else for a change,” Bobby replied. 

“I need to find that monster, that’s all,” Dean replied. 

“Well while you do tha’ I’m gonna go hunt the rest of the monsters in this world,” Bobby said, going to grab his bags for the hunt, as well as Dean’s. “An’ just for the record, he’s still yer brother boy.”

“No, he’s not,” Dean replied, but eventually following Bobby out the house and on the hunt, needing to kill something soon. 

He could imagine it had Sam’s face after all, and he’d take great pleasure in that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, another chapter of fanfic down, another unwritten chapter of my own original work. Can I be paid for fanfic? It's hard enough to do that all of us should be! And even if you have original works you can't make money until you can afford to publish. Yay :(  
> Anyway thank you for coming to my TED talk.


	13. Being Kingly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrote and reposted this chapter... well rewrote the first few bits more than the whole thing, but the plot is essentially the same. I just didn't like how I'd phrased most of it :)

“Thanks,” Sam said, taking his coffee from the woman behind the counter. The woman smiled, but Brady glowered at him, elbowing him to silently reprimand the boy. 

“King Sammy. You’re a king!” Brady hissed as they left, Sam sighing at the reminder. 

“But not of humans,” Sam replied, ready to get back to training, eagre to have yet another fix of blood.

He wouldn’t tell Brady that though. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam simply smiled when he got his coffee the next week. A polite smile, but no words of thanks this time. The woman smiled, Brady elbowed him, and Sam tried not to grimace at the taste of the drink; it wasn’t blood, and he didn’t like that.

“How long until I’m ready?” Sam asked. 

“You can exorcise demons Sam, but that’s not enough. It’s only been a week though, so don’t lose your hopes yet,” Brady said, planting a small kiss on Sam’s cheek. 

“I just, I just need Dean,” Sam sighed, downing the rest of his drink.

 

Xxx

 

Sam didn’t say or do anything when the woman handed over the cup, her smile slightly more forced. Brady still wasn’t happy, but it was progress. 

“Let’s go kill those black eyed bitches,” Sam said, swallowing the scalding liquid in one go just to avoid having to taste it. 

“Sure you can kill  _ all  _ of them without breaking a sweat?” Brady crooned. 

“Did so yesterday didn’t I?” Sam replied, smirking at the demon. 

“Do it again and I’ll give you a snack,” Brady said, capturing Sam’s lips in his own. 

It had barely been two weeks since Dean’s ‘death’. 

 

Xxx

 

“Have a nice day sir,” the woman called after Sam, the boy leaving without a word. 

“Care to top it up?” Sam asked Brady. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Brady replied, slicing his wrist and bleeding into Sam’s cup. Sam swallowed the coffee with a smile. 

“Are you sure I have to torture demons?” Sam asked, not looking forward to that day’s coming lesson. Two weeks in and this was the first sign of hesitation. 

“You can’t peacefully rule Hell,” Brady reminded him, and Sam didn’t ask again. 

 

Xxx

 

“Here you go sir,” the woman said. 

“Whatever,” Sam replied, barging past the other people in his desperation to reach Brady and his  _ glorious  _ blood. 

“Hey man, that’s not too-” someone began, but Sam acted as if the man weren’t there and just walked on. Those people were human, and therefore inconsequential to him. He was a king, born to rule the demons. 

That was all. 

 

Xxx

 

Every body that Sam caused, whether it be from draining a demon or killing one with a dead host, Brady made sure it was hidden far  _ far  _ from where they were holed up in San Francisco. That way when Bobby and Dean started to track the two demons they would be drawn far away, practically to the opposite side of the country. 

And that they did. 

Bobby realised early on that all the bodies turning up were also missing persons cases, and therefore the victims of demonic possession. When stories started to surface from the (living) people that popped up of two boys with black eyes- one taller than anything and with freaky powers- it hadn’t been hard to piece it all together. 

The hunters had had hope at first. Well, Bobby had, but by the time survivors stopped appearing and the corpse count reached fifty? Bobby’s hope began to dwindle and Dean’s determination grew. 

That hadn’t even been by the end of week two. 

By week three Bobby stopped researching how to cure demons and save demon-blooded-humans, and instead tried to find out how to kill one.

By week four Sam Winchester was lost to both of them; all that remained was the demon that was destroying their lives. 

 

Xxx

 

“Brady please, just one more,” Sam begged as Brady pulled away from Sam. The boy was now drinking nearly a full body’s worth of blood, and Brady couldn’t afford to spare more. 

“I- I can’t,” Brady replied, slightly dizzy even though his blood was replenishing rapidly. 

“Why not?” Sam demanded, slamming Brady up against a wall, his anger slipping through; over the past few weeks Sam had slowly grown more angry, his eyes black more often than they were hazel. And with the amount of blood injected into his veins, Brady knew that one more injection would remove the last of the humanity in the future king. 

But it couldn’t be Brady’s blood. 

If Sam had just Brady’s blood in his system then he’d be a normal demon. A powerful one, yes, however just a normal black eyed demon. Sam needed to be stronger, better, more powerful. He needed a knight’s blood, or a prince’s. And since he already had Azazel’s blood in his system, it was Azazel’s blood that would finish it all off. 

“ _ Why not? _ ” Sam demanded, slamming Brady once again, shaking the demon out of his thought process.

Unfortunately for Brady’s plans, Sam had grown to love blood more than Brady himself… and that was becoming an issue…  

“Because if you do you’ll be a full demon!” Brady cried, begging for his life without actually begging for it. 

“What?” Sam asked, taking a step back. It had worked; Brady’s words had pulled at the last of Sam’s humanity. That last, tiny slither.

“If you take another hit, inject it, then you’ll be a demon. I don’t want to risk you drinking too much and doing it that way instead,” Brady said, slowly backing away from Sam, hazel eyes finally returning. 

“I don’t care,” Sam replied, eyes back to black. 

“It can’t be mine, though, or you’ll be weak. You have to drain a prince,” Brady said. 

“Great. Where’s a prince then?” Sam asked, trusting in Brady’s words but desperate for more blood. He didn’t care for the reasoning anymore, only the outcome.

Oh god. The blood. He needed blood. More. Always more. More more more more. 

“I’m working on it,” Brady said, moving towards the door. 

“Work faster!” Sam snapped as the door shut, Brady leaving the room. 

 

Xxx

 

“It’s been weeks, Brady, and you expect me to be at your beck and call?” Meg asked, answering Brady’s ‘call’ from a hidden corner of Hell. 

“No, I expect you to be at Sam’s beck and call,” Brady snapped back. 

“Is he king yet? No, so I don’t have to do anything,” Meg said. She had helped Brady, helped Sam, providing blood and demons and possessing anyone Brady had told her to, except then Brady had sidelined her and stopped keeping her informed about anything. 

But she hadn’t turned on them thanks to her desire to having Sam on the throne. Maybe that was why she was considering helping Sam… or was helping Sam. 

“What do you need?” Meg finally asked, swallowing her pride in order to try and get close to the future king. 

“Azazel,” Brady replied, knowing that Meg would understand what she meant. 

“You do realise that the moment Azazel sees Sam he will kill him right? He will kill the contender to the throne?” 

“Yes, and Sam is ready,” Brady replied, sure of what he was saying. 

“Wow,” Meg said at last, exceptionally surprised as to how quickly this had all occurred. 

“Yeah, turns out the need to save your dead brother is a great motivator,” Brady said, Meg able to hear the smirk through the connection. 

“Dean Winchester is alive and kicking.”

“Not in Sam’s mind,” Brady replied. 

And it was true; he’d strategically placed the bodies so far from where Sam and he were that Bobby and Dean never crossed paths with them. It was perfect. Sam was perfect. 

He was going to be king. 

“I’ll get Azazel,” Meg replied, cutting off the connection. Sam would be king, Brady the puppet master, and she could be the right hand man. Well, woman. 

 

Xxx

 

Sam had stopped caring about whether he saved the hosts or not, instead preferring to hold the demons within their bodies as they drained them of blood, discarding the bodies wherever he decided. Who cared if people died? They were just human, a means to an end, probably already killed from being a demon’s host. 

But there were no demons around, no blood for him to drink, no bodies to drain. Nothing. Not one drop. He was  _ hungry.  _

“Brady please,” Sam begged down the phone, not caring that it wasn’t very kingly but too  _ hungry  _ to care. “Please please please. More. Now.” 

“I’m here,” Brady said, cradling Sam’s head as he cradled his slit wrist against Sam’s lips. Sam would have replied but he was slightly preoccupied. “Enough now,” Brady said, pulling back only to be telekinetically slammed back into a wall. 

“No,” Sam replied, stalking forward. 

“Sam!” Brady cried as Sam latched onto his wrist, moving to his neck when he needed more blood. Sam would kill him. His love for the blood overrode his love for Brady. 

“No!” It was the command of a king, one who answered to no one but themselves. 

“Sam please!” Brady begged, vision darkening as Sam drank too much, death looming too close for his liking. “Sam?”

Brady couldn’t be certain, but the last thing he thought he heard was Dean Winchester. 

 

Xxx

 

Bobby had finally put together a pattern, which had allowed him to find out what didn’t fit the pattern. 

That had been Brady’s mistake; he had been too smart for his own good, creating a pattern that worked both for and against him, one that Bobby had cracked. It had been Dean, though, who had realised that Sam and Brady were using the inverse pattern to hole up. 

From there it had been easy. It had only been a matter of figuring out which high-end hotel the demons had chosen to stay in. It was actually quite easy after that. 

They had gone in, guns blazing, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Except Sam had turned, pulling back from Brady’s neck, blood dripping from his lips, a soft “Dean,” falling from his lips. 

That word. That one damned word, spoken with pure pain and disbelief, had been so  _ Sam  _ that Dean had hesitated. 

Sam used that time to disappear. 


	14. Change of plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I got caught up and only realised tonight that I'd forgotten to write this one recently. It's a short chapter, yes, but I just wanted to give you guys something! Sorry!

“Brady. Answers. Now,” Sam demanded, pushing Brady away from himself the moment they appeared in their new hotel. 

“Sam, please, I can explain,” Brady stammered, growing wary when he felt Sam’s anger building in response to his anger. 

“Good. Do it,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for Brady to escape the answer. 

“I was going to tell you he was alive, but I didn’t know how to tell you because of how he came back, and that’s that your father sold his soul for Dean to come back.” The words started out controlled, but with Sam’s ever darkening look Brady grew ever more panicked. 

“How long?” Sam asked, voice low. 

“Not long at-”

“How. Long? And remember, I know when you’re lying.” That last part was a whisper, Sam stalking closer as a lion would with its prey. 

“Almost four weeks. He came back immediately,” Brady answered, hoping to distract Sam by biting and sucking his way up Sam’s neck. It almost worked. 

“You’ve been manipulating me,” Sam whispered, realisation dawning on his face when Brady pulled back to see. 

He flew into the far wall a moment later, Sam powerful enough to not need to raise his hand to perform the deed anymore. 

“Sam that’s insane!” Brady laughed, trying and failing to move. 

“I’m talking,” he said, and had those words been directed at anyone else, Brady would have been proud of the tone, on of a true king with no mercy for his subjects. “You were manipulating me,” Sam continued. “You lied. You lied about Dean being alive, and I’m probably going to guess you’ve lied about everything.”    
“Sam-” 

“You got me addicted to the blood, made me dependant on you,” Sam realised, everything starting to slot into place. “You made me more like you, made me into this- this  _ monster.  _ It was all a lie, wasn’t it.”

“Sam please-”   
“No.” Brady lost his voice. “You have no right to even beg in my presence. You don’t even get to look at me.” Brady hadn’t thought he could be hurt in a long time, not since acquiring Sam. That changed then and there.  “Tell me this though, why? Why go through all of this? Why lie to me?” 

Brady choked on air for a moment before his voice resurfaced. “Because I love you Sam,” he said, his best puppy-dog eyes in play, his last bid for his life. 

“You forget that you’ve been turning me into one of you. I know that that’s not true, because I know that demons can’t feel.” Sam took a step forward, and Brady knew he was screwed, not even playing on his once human nature being able to save him. “ _ Tell the truth! _ ” 

Maybe he could have one last hurrah though… maybe. Just maybe. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you about Azazel; he really is the king, and powerful. I was acting on his orders.” Sam didn’t pick up on the lie, and for that Brady was pleased. 

Although maybe that was because it wasn’t truly a lie… after all, he’d followed Azazel’s orders to a point. It had just been that Sam Winchester was so delicious. 

It probably would have been better for his health, though, if he’d just done as he was asked and pushed that boring girl into the boy’s way instead, as it was meant to be. 

“Thank you for your honesty,” Sam said at last, Brady being released from the position against the wall.

He almost thought he’d got away with it.

“It’s a shame, really,” Sam said though, breaking through Brady’s false hope. “I think that at some point, I actually did love you.” 

That was the last thing Brady heard before Sam burnt him out of his meatsuit, his death drawn out, Sam enjoying every second of it. 

One down, one demon to go; Sam was going to kill Azazel. After all, he needed his sweet sweet revenge. 

 

Xxx

 

“We can save him,” Bobby whispered, still starring at that spot Sam had been in moments ago. 

“Bobby-” Dean began, intending to argue with the man but being cut off completely. 

“No you listen here boy,” Bobby yelled, determined to get Dean’s head straight. “That boy there recognised your ass, despite how far he’s fallen. He jus’ showed us tha’ despite everything, he’s still yer brother. He can still be saved!” 

“He’s killed people!” Dean yelled. 

“What’s yer job again? Is it t’ sit down an’ work at a desk or is it t’ kill things? Don’t tell me that killing makes a monster boy, or you’ll be puttin’ a bullet through my skull next!” Bobby was practically roaring, spit flying in Dean’s face as the man spoke. “He’s still yer brother Dean,” Bobby said in a slightly calmer tone. “If you want to go killing him then fine, but you do it alone. I’m going t’ try an’ save my son.” 

“I don’t know if I can, Bobby. What do I do if you’re wrong, if he really is a monster and we can’t save him?” Dean asked, showing the world just how broken he really was. 

“Then I’ll do what I have to,” Bobby replied, his meaning clear. 

The older man walked out, leaving Dean to ponder his words. He followed a moment later, climbing into the driver’s side of the Impala and turning the engine on. 

“He’s my brother,” Dean said, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “If he has to die, I’m going to do it. He’s my responsibility. But… but if your crazy theory is true, I’m with you Bobby.”

 

Xxx

 

“You know, if you wanted to find Azazel, you could have just asked,” Meg drawled, strolling towards Sam as if without a care in the world. 

“Fine. Where’s Azazel?” Sam demanded, turning away from his latest black-eyed victim to see the familiar demon. 

“Straight to the point. I like it,” Meg replied, sobering up the moment she felt Sam’s power building again, this time directed at her. “He’s holed up in Hell, organising everything and making sure the others down there know not to kill you yet. He wants that prize all to himself.”

“Why should I trust you?” Sam asked, his power no longer building, however hanging in the air as a threat. 

“No don’t. I’m a demon, remember? But even if I were working for Azazel I’d still tell the truth. He wants you to come to him after all.” 

Sam deliberated for a moment, but his thirst for revenge, for blood, won out in the end. “Take me to him,” he demanded. 

“Mm yes, you will make a great king,” Meg remarked, Sam following her down into Hell. 

Brady may be gone, yes, but that didn’t mean his plans had to fail. It just meant that a new position was open, one as the puppetmaster, and Meg had every intention of claiming that one for herself. She’d just be a lot more subtle about it, a lot smarter. 


	15. The first seal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. It's only been a few months of my life, but it is finally over. Am I the best writer in the world? Not by a long shot. Should I have edited my work a bit more? Probably. Do I need to add more suspense to some areas? Maybe.   
> But if you're reading this then I thank you for sticking it out and reading this far. So, for the last time, enjoy!

The way down to Hell involved stealing the colt and opening the gates in Wyoming, something that the old Sam would have balked at doing. The new Sam, though, could only see the path to Azazel, to the one who’d destroyed everything for him. Once all this was over, he could go to Dean, explain everything, make him understand what he’d done. Maybe he could even use being king to his advantage… after all he could control the demons, make them fall in line and back of from humanity. 

The grunts who emerged from the gates ignored the pair walking in, and any demons Sam found on the way he used for a snack, powering up in preparation for Azazel. 

Meg watched on in a strange mix of horror and awe, the boy in front of her so different to the one she’d met so long ago. He was a long way from the puppy-eyed giant drinking coffee at Stanford. Now… now he could make demons run in fear, and eventually they stopped trying to block his path to the throne room; at the end of the day, demons would always save themselves than be loyal to their leader.

“Are you ready?” Meg asked, the pair pausing before a set of double doors, blood dripping down his chin, his black eyes almost crackling with power. He didn’t answer, instead just pushing through the doors to find hoards of demons standing at the edge of the room, his path to the throne cleared.

“Well well well,” Azazel crooned. “Sam Winchester, the new contender for the throne.”

“I take it you’re Azazel,” Sam replied, pushing past Meg to face the yellow-eyed demon, the one his father had devoted his life to hunting. 

“The one and only. I must say Sam, I’m impressed. You weren’t meant to become like this yet. Threw a spanner into the works and all that.” 

“Oh I’m so sorry about that,” Sam said, his words dripping with sarcasm. 

“How about a deal,” Azazel asked, getting to his feet and strolling towards Sam. “You and me, here and now. If you win, you can have what you came for and become the king you’re destined to be. If I win, you spend the rest of your days as my pet monster.”

“Deal,” Sam snarled, arrogance mixing with rage to create a dangerous concoction. It wasn’t a crossroads deal, what with Sam being too demonic for that, so a kiss wasn’t needed to seal it. 

“Come at me, boy,” Azazel said, and Sam walked forward to face the monster. 

The demons assembled, Sam realised, were expecting this; they were there to watch Azazel’s power be reaffirmed, and for Sam’s claim to the throne to be wiped from their minds. They were there to watch as Azazel slammed Sam back against the wall, knocking the breath out of him and breaking his ribs. They cheered, when Sam began to cough up blood, his attacks on the king being as effective as a summer’s breeze. 

But no one counted on one thing; Sam still had the colt, and he was an excellent shot. 

Something Sam had figured out, was that demons were arrogant creatures. He’d learnt from watching Brady and Meg that they overestimated their abilities, that their pride would always be their downfall. 

Azazel was about to make a winning blow, Sam lying bloody and broken on the floor as Azazel worked up the crowd. 

“You see this boy?” He bellowed, his foot on Sam’s skull, threatening to crush it in. “This is what becomes of your ‘boy king’!” 

“You talk too much,” Sam spat through the blood, drawing the colt and shooting Azazel right through the eye as he looked down in shock. 

Azazel slumped to the floor as Sam staggered to his feet, Meg waltzing forward with a syringe in hand. “We can’t have a king that’s not a demon,” she smirked, handing over the device with a glint in her eye. “You’ve come so far my king. They’ll kill you if you back out now,” Meg murmured at the sight of Sam’s hesitation. 

He nodded, taking the syringe with a barely shaking hand and crouching down to Azazel’s fallen corpse.  _ I can do a lot of good with this,  _ Sam thought, the last shred of his humanity fighting through as his fear spiked.  _ It will work out,  _ he justified, filling the chambre with crimson, the scent of sulfur so much more prominent. 

He injected it into the crook of his elbow, pressing down on the plunger to take the final hit. 

No more white soul. No more humanity. And no more black eyes, the orbs flecked with Azazel’s yellow. 

“My king,” Meg says, falling to one knee, the gathered demons following suit. 

It felt only natural for Sam to take a seat on the throne, lounging on it as if he owned the world… which he technically did. Power, vast and dangerous, flooded Sam’s veins, greater than anything he’d ever felt before but all there for him to control. It was  _ right.  _

“What would you like first, your highness?” Meg asked, taking her place by Sam’s side.

“Bring me my brother and Bobby,” Sam demanded, adding “and my father, unharmed,” as an afterthought. 

“Have Alistair bring up John,” Meg called out, “I can bring in the other two.”   
“What- what do you mean, bring up my father?” Sam asked, quizzically glaring at Meg.

“How do you think Dean came back? The easter bunny?” Meg laughed. “No, daddy made a deal. His soul for Dean’s. He’s down here as we speak.” 

“Bring him, now,” Sam growled, his power flaring up and blasting the nearest demons excluding Meg to ash. 

“Yes sir,” someone said, disappearing immediately. 

“Leave us!” The king ordered, all the remaining demons departing at the command. Sam seethed for some time, waiting for the nameless demon to return with his father. 

“Here sir,” the demon said, a bloody and broken John Winchester being shoved to knees at Sam’s feet. “What else?” 

Sam snapped his fingers and the demon imploded. “Dad?” Sam asked, kneeling to grab his father by his shoulder. 

“What have you done?” John swore, taking in Sam’s inhuman eyes. 

“What I had to,” Sam replied, not an ounce of the son John had left behind in his face. “It feels  _ right _ , dad.”   
“Don’t call me that,” John growled, fists clenched and shaking in anger. “You’re not my son.” 

“Dad?” 

John’s fist went flying, catching Sam in a right hook across the cheek, clipping his nose and breaking the skin. Sam did all he could think to do, John joining the mass of blood on the floor. 

Too late.

Thunder cracked throughout all of Hell, and Sam felt something cold crack inside him, inside Hell. Something powerful... ancient…

_ Hello Sam,  _ it whispered, ice stabbing at Sam’s thoughts, his breath catching in his throat.  _ I’ll see you soon. _

“What was that?” Sam gasped, not yet understanding what was going on. 

“He’s coming, Sammy,” Meg replied, a smile full of reverent devotion replacing her smirk. 

“Who?”   
“Who d’ya think? It’s the devil himself, and he’s gonna love you.” 

The cold seemed to laugh with the demon, and only then did Sam question whether he’d made a mistake.

 

Xxx

 

The lights blew in Bobby’s house, shutters rattling and glass shattering.

“Bobby?” Dean asked, getting to his feet and drawing his gun. “Any ideas?”   
“Be ready,” Bobby replied, a shotgun of salt rounds in aimed at the door. 

They fired mercilessly as it blew off its hinges, a tax accountant walking in, completely unaffected by the bullets hitting his chest. “Dean Winchester,” he said, his voice akin to someone who gargled gravel for a living.   
Dean’s response was a knife to his chest, whilst Bobby attempted a hit over the head with a crowbar. Neither worked, and Bobby ended up unconscious following to fingers to the forehead. 

“What are you?” Dean asked, Bobby’s house being warded to hell and back, nothing able to enter. 

“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord, and we have work for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I don't really like endings that much... maybe that's why I suck at them.  
> Also probably why I have the oppourtunity to come back, tell the tale of the apocalypse... maybe, maybe not. Who knows? I could leave you with the suspense.   
> It will depend on whether you can appeal to my better side or not ;)


End file.
